by Nikki Wild
He added with a wink: “Good luck with that.”
“Thank you, sir,” I nodded politely, turning towards the opaque glass that marked the Lieutenant’s office in the back of the room.
I’d only encountered the man a few times, and none of those instances had been what I’d call pleasant. The Sergeants usually positioned themselves between him and us for a reason that rose above simple matters of hierarchy.
A shiver went down my spine. This morning was not getting off to a good start.
“And, by the way?” The Sergeant smiled, extending his hand. “Congratulations on the promotion. You deserved it.”
“Much obliged, Sergeant,” I smiled, shaking his hand. “If you’ll excuse me…”
“Carry on,” he nodded.
Holding my chin high, I crossed between cubicles towards Lieutenant Crabbe’s office. Each step forward sent an uncharacteristic impulse to my brain:
Turn back. Turn back. Turn back.
No, I thought to myself. I’ve come this far. I’m going to make my father proud and no asshole Lieutenant is going to stop me.
I knocked on the door, and heard an ambiguous grumble from inside. Unsure how to proceed, I hesitated for a moment before giving another brief, louder knock.
“I said ‘COME IN!’”
Great.
As I let myself into the room, Lieutenant Crabbe was perched behind his desk, twiddling his finger to indicate that I close the door.
The Lieutenant was a slovenly man: obese, sweaty, and perpetually fueled by anger that bordered on hellfire. His shitty attitude and unsightly physique was tolerated because he had an unblemished record of producing results, but his penchant for coming down hard on his subordinates was legendary on the force.
“I didn’t ask, Jones!” He shouted down the desk phone that was jammed against his ear, his thick, Cheetos-stained fingers wrapped around it like undercooked sausages. “I said do it! I don’t care how long your men have to stake out that fucking bowling alley, you do it and you do it with a fucking smile! Do you hear me?!”
Without waiting for a response, he slammed the phone down on the receiver, wiping his fingers off under his chair.
I hid my revulsion.
“So… Detective…” Crabbe muttered, gazing at me with his beady little eyes. Apparently, he’d already made an assessment, because those eyes were filled with contempt. “Out of the kiddie pool, eh? How’s it feel to be at the big kid’s table?”
I was taken aback, but thought quickly.
“This promotion is everything that I wanted, sir. I’m willing to put in whatever’s necessary to–”
“Don’t bother, Detective,” he sneered, leaning back in his chair. I heard it audibly strain beneath his weight. “Your boss says you’ve got the chops. Says your record speaks for itself. He doesn’t fuck up often, so I’m inclined to believe him… for now. I know that you’ve earned your spot here. Don’t piss me off by trying to butter me up.”
From the looks of it the only thing he needed buttered was a thick basket of greasy rolls sitting at the edge of his desk.
“That said, everything that landed you in that chair in front of me? It’s in the past. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your previous work ethic. This little promotion of yours? It’s a clean fucking slate. You’re back to square one, but now you’re on a higher rung, you understand?”
I nodded respectfully.
“Good. Glad you’re hearin’ what I’m sayin’,” he grunted, shuffling a few papers around on his desk. “With that said, I looked into you. Work ethic notwithstanding, I don’t appreciate having some snot-nosed little sheriff’s daughter shoved onto my plate.”
And there it was.
It was always one reason or the other: the suggested nepotism, or the gender implication. Apparently, my temporary boss was one of the bigger misogynistic fuckers on the force, but went ahead and just struck for both sides anyway.
“You wanted this so bad?” The lieutenant grunted. “You’ve got it. Now keep it up, or else I’ll have you back out there scribbling out parking tickets so fast it’ll make your head fucking spin.”
“I understand, sir.” I chose my words carefully: “I’m not asking for your respect… I’m willing to earn it.”
He took a cold, hard look at me, but I didn’t waver in my conviction. After a moment, he finally nodded, apparently satisfied.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
He pulled open a drawer beneath his desk. Before I could pat myself on the back for learning the first steps in playing the game, he was tossing a thick folder in front of me.
“What the hell is this?” I asked.
“Your first case, Detective,” he answered with a gravelly grunt. “Missing persons. Let me know if this rings a bell: three cheerleaders disappear from a football game in Tucson.”
I inwardly groaned.
“Of course I know this case,” I answered.
It had been national news for months. Three pretty teenage girls vanish from pleasant little suburbia, and the whole country goes crazy. The department had tied up resources for almost a hundred days on this thing, bearing the brunt of media scrutiny.
Every loose end had been a dead end. They had vanished without a trace.
“We’ve thrown everything we’ve got at this thing, but nothing came up green. I can’t spare that kind of manpower anymore, but we can’t walk away from this either. You want to earn my respect, Detective?” He sneered. “I’ll make it easier for you than most. Find these girls.”
While he spoke, I flipped through the folder. My eyes glanced across the mountain of evidence: credit card statements, eyewitness interviews, phone records, last known locations, mapped out sheets of friends and family – and then, something I would have never expected…
It was simple, really. I’d spotted a photo: a man beside his motorcycle. The Lieutenant’s words drowned out as I realized what I was looking at… The lines on his face had hardened and his leather cut was looking battle-worn.
Hunter.
My breath caught in my throat as I pulled the photograph from the sleeve sheet. Absentmindedly, my fingertips ran along his face, bringing back feelings long since buried.
Flipping it over, I spotted an inscription on the backside: the words Devil’s Dragons, El Paso, with the current year.
“What’s the matter, Detective?” Lieutenant Crabbe chuckled. “Got a thing for bad boys?”
I glanced at him with a smile that wiped the snide comment from his collection of chins. “I enjoy putting them behind bars. Don’t you worry, sir. I’ll find these girls.”
His expression turned stern as he leaned forward in his chair, groaning beneath his weight.
“I don’t want you working on anything else, Detective. This is your primary focus until we know what happened. I want you to eat, drink, shit, and piss this case, understand? Get us a new lead on this thing and I’ll provide whatever resources you need to see the investigation through.”
His jaw set as he summed me up once more: “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir,” I smiled confidently.
“Very good,” my superior replied, still unsure what to do with my change in demeanor. “Now that you grasp what is expected of you … leave my sight and get your ass to Tucson immediately.”
I rose, shaking his hand, and closed the door behind myself. I passed by my new office; I hadn’t even taken the time to get settled into the room, electing to go straight for my Sergeant. All I’d done is placed my box of belongings on the edge of the desk…
Taking the moment to pause, I stroked my fingertips along the edge of the desk, glancing around the small room. It lacked a view, or art, or anything that made it anything less than a small cog in the machinery that ran this precinct… but it was mine.
It was mine for right now, at least.
There was no telling what was going to happen with this case. The Lieutenant had put me on a dead end and he knew it. I was going to be
the scapegoat to compartmentalize the damage when the department failed to find those girls. It was a way of quietly shoving me out of the way.
If I even found them, it would just make him look that much better for putting the new girl on the case.
Damn you, Sergeant, I groaned to myself. You and your stupid fucking leg…
Tucson had been tread and retread time and time again. There wasn’t anything new that was going to turn up there. It was a dead end… but it was as good a place as any to start.
I strolled down the stairs and out the front door of the precinct, the case folder tightly under my arm. Pulling out a pair of sunglasses in the hot Phoenix sun, I felt the slight breeze in the air. The wind flowed over me, caressing my skin – the very elements comforting me, pushing me onward.
The drive was only three hours even after fighting a few miles of morning traffic. I suspected that I wasn’t going to be staying in Tucson, so I saw fit to appease my Lieutenant while the window of opportunity was available. I phoned him moment that I arrived in the city.
“Glad to hear you can follow basic orders,” he snarled in response. “Where exactly are you starting your investigation?”
“I need to pour over these case files,” I replied truthfully. “Familiarize myself with the inner workings of this thing. Put some fresh eyes on it. If I’m going to dig something up, it’ll probably have to be from there.”
“A boring answer, but the right one,” he grumbled. “Take a day and get the lay of the land. Study that shit like your life depends on it. Figure it out from there. Oh, and Detective?”
He sneered out the title, as always. Good to know that he still questioned my capabilities. “Contact me when you’ve actually got something, and not a fucking second sooner.”
With that, he hung up loudly.
I had parked outside a small diner to make the call, and I gazed over at the case file on the passenger seat. If I was going to find these girls, the answer was going to be in that folder… and I sensed that the path forward was already clear.
For late morning, the diner was only half full. This suited me just fine, and I requested a big table in the corner. While the waitress returned with my coffee, I was already up to my ass in paperwork. The case file had plenty of dirt on the Devil’s Dragons MC, and even more on Hunter. The club had arrived in town a few days after the girls went missing and started asking questions… the right questions.
For their efforts, they wound up with a great, big target slapped on their backs. Police attention was the last thing those guys wanted, but they collectively became prime suspect number one for several days. After all, they had a well deserved reputation. Half of the files scattered on this table came from the Devil’s Dragons. Arrests, statements, stakeouts, and a thick manilla folder full of details about the raid on their strip club base of operations eight years ago.
That brought back some memories…
I turned the page, shaken as I saw the pictures of the aftermath. Men lay in pools of blood, and the club was absolutely riddled with bullets. It seemed like they’d pulled every single file related to the Dragons during this investigation. The police raid on their former base in Phoenix had definitely raised some eyebrows in the Tucson jurisdiction. Half the club was killed in the shootout, and most of the others were rotting away in a prison just outside Florence. From the looks of things, less than half a dozen men avoided being charged, and they’d spent the last handful of years bolstering their numbers out of a new clubhouse in El Paso…
Most of the information in the file came from the interrogations of a few captured club members, all of whom were released with no charges filed. Oddly, the files were missing notes on how, precisely, the bikers had been captured.
But their stories filled in some of the gaps.
The club was a shadow of its former self. Whoever the new leader was, he had steered the MC away from running drugs. These days, the club was making its money in armed protection. Bodyguards, concert security, asset retrieval. It was an above-board business as far as the case file was concerned, but people used to say the same thing about that little pink strip club in Phoenix up until the shootout…
What a strange niche to carve, I thought to myself as I sipped my coffee.
When it was clear that they had nothing to do with the disappearances, the police tied up their resources elsewhere: chasing known coyotes in the area. With the girls nowhere to be found on the north side of the border, eyes shifted south.
Mexico…
This is where the Devil’s Dragons dropped out of the case. For all the noise they’d made coming into Tuscon, they left quietly in the middle of the night.
Something wasn’t adding up here.
Something to do with these specific girls…
Lost in thought, I bit the tip of my pen. There was something here that I was missing right in front of my eyes… and I suspected that I wasn’t going to learn it by reading this case file.
Why did they come to Tucson?
And why did they vanish again?
The waitress returned, carefully placing my lunch down between the pages on the table. I hurriedly shifted papers out of her way, thanking her and politely asking for the check. If I were going to make heads or tails of this today, I would have to hit the road again, and fast…
I needed answers, and I wasn’t going to find them in Tucson. The lieutenant would be pissed, but maybe, just maybe…
I needed to go to El Paso.
Chapter 6
Getting to El Paso had been the easy part. It was only four hours past Tucson, and I’d arrived while the sun was still shining above.
The hard part was finding what I was looking for…
It would have been effortless to head straight up to the local authorities and request information on the Devil’s Dragons, but that could have gotten messy. I was out of my jurisdiction and my lieutenant would quickly learn that I was asking questions in the wrong city… and that was a conversation I was intent on pushing back as far as I could.
That left the slower option: relying on my wits and hitting the streets.
I put my honed skills to work, following Sergeant Thompson’s guidance as I dug up what I could on the renegade club. The locals weren’t too eager to answer the questions of a detective, which made me wonder why they were protecting the club…
But I got what I needed.
I always did.
It was dark outside by the time my unmarked car crunched gravel in front of the old bar on the edge of the city. My knuckles went white around the steering wheel as I took a few deep breaths.
This was their base.
Hunter might be in there.
The last time I’d seen him, things had gone sideways. I’d lost my lover. My father had been wounded. People had been arrested… and others had died. I’d spent years trying to free myself of the guilt. As it turned out, the raid wasn’t spontaneous. The sheriff’s department had been planning to take down the Dragons for months before that fateful morning. The assets were in place long before my father discovered me missing… Before he checked the GPS tracking app he’d installed on my phone.
I wasn’t the reason the raid happened… The Devils had sealed their fate when they started trafficking drugs up from the border.
My presence there with Hunter did nothing except speed up the inevitable.
I stepped out of the car – a Crown Vic, just like my father’s. The police lights were tucked away behind the grill instead of planted on the roof for all to see, but under all that white paint she was all business. Patting the hood affectionately, I gave the Interceptor engine a silent moment of gratitude for bringing me this far.
My life changed that fateful morning…
Fitting, perhaps, that it was clearly going to change again tonight.
At least this time, I could see it coming.
Silence fell the moment I stepped into the bar. An endless sea of eyes glared at me from bar tops, pool tables, and the counte
rtop straight ahead. All of them belonged to rugged, weathered bikers or the slutty women of all ages that had given them company.
I marched straight to a free chair at the bar, ignoring how the patrons parted menacingly, closing off behind me as I took my seat.
“Whiskey sour, please,” I asked the bartender. She was a fiery little redhead, frozen in the middle of wiping a grimy glass as she glared daggers my way.
With narrowing eyes and not a syllable uttered, the bartender placed the dirty tumbler down and went straight for the bottom-shelf shit. For the garnish, she made a big show of spitting in the drink before sliding it my way.
“What the hell is this?” I snarled.
The redhead flattened her palms on the bar, leaning forward to grin wickedly: “We don’t serve your kind here.” To punctuate the point, she jabbed a thumb towards the window, and the parked Crown Vic outside.
I rose from my chair, preparing to retort, when a smooth voice called out from behind: “…Elmira. That’s no way to treat our guest, is it?”
The bartender froze again, glancing over my shoulder. Similarly, I stiffened up, locking onto the redhead’s eyes as she glanced my way with a mixture of equal parts confusion and irritation.
I knew that voice.
That was the voice that had haunted my dreams for eight years…
“Give her the Van Wrinkle and the Green Spot this time, Elmira. Use one of the clean glasses… and try to not spit in it.”
“Jack Daniels is fine,” I retorted, unwilling to take my eyes off of her own. The last time I’d seen this man I’d frozen in panic… Now that we were finally in the same room again, it was the same old song and dance…
“Jack in a whiskey sour? You always liked it a little rough, didn’t you?” I felt his breath near my ear, and a shiver slipped down my spine.
“Some things never change,” I murmured.
“True…” he chuckled, placing a strong, steady hand on my hip. God, I missed that. “But some things change for the better…”
Hunter spun me around in the stool, forcing me to face him. His piercing blue eyes drilled straight into my soul.