Riggs brightened. Phone numbers had names and addresses associated with them.
“Henry, get back onto the DPD. See if they can scare up a snitch or two in the area to watch for her. If she’s slumming we got our best chance to spot her.”
“So does Hayes.” Alice looked sober.
“Let’s email her again. Send it to all the addresses we suspect are hers. She sounded open to an offer. Alice you write this one, apply some pressure with that special woman’s touch.” Alice nodded. “Oh, and the list of her online contacts? Anything there?”
Alice looked at the sheet. “We’ve got people out checking them, but I’ll have to admit, I didn’t have the biker on my list.”
“Riggs, call Judge Kincaid. Let’s get phone taps in place on the most likely ones. She may still try to contact one of them, by phone since she knows we’re watching her email addresses.”
“Right.” Riggs looked unenthusiastic. “What would you consider a likely?”
Matt ignored this as he looked around his group. “Any other ideas? Suggestions?”
“It’s too bad,” Alice said, thoughtfully, “there’s no way to anticipate the unexpected.” She looked up at Matt. “It’s what she does best in her books.”
“Funny you should mention her books.” Matt gestured to his assistant Karen Tebbs, holding a stack of books. “Pass them out.”
“What?” Riggs asked, suspiciously.
“I want everybody to take one. Read it. Note names, occupations, interests, hobbies, information, anything that you think she could use or might hint what she’ll do next. Let’s see if we can anticipate the unexpected.”
Riggs looked at Henry. “Shit.”
Matt grinned as he held up one and read the back. “Not according to Romantic Times. They called this “…delightful, a keeper to be revisited again and again…” You can start your visit now, Riggs.”
* * * *
Oxford’s place was an innocuous little shop in the corner of a seedy strip mall. A buzzer hailed her entrance into the shop and a small, brisk man emerged from a back room and leaned on a glass case filled with tiny, electronic gadgetry. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” Dani adjusted her back pack on her shoulder, tried to maintain her bravado. “My friend, Meathook, said you were the man.”
“Meat? How is old Meat?” He looked at her curiously.
“He’s cool.” She looked around. “Like this place.”
“So what can I do for you?”
Dani hesitated, almost too tired to tell him. Oxford looked at her, his light eyes blandly expectant. She dug up the words and forced them out, “I need a portable motion detector. And some pepper gas, in a size I can keep in my pocket.”
“Okay.” He didn’t look surprised or curious. “What’s your price range?”
“Money isn’t a problem.”
“I only take cash.”
“I only pay cash.”
Oxford unlocked a cabinet, slid the glass back. “I think you’ll like this one…”
They did business and then Dani was back out on the street, being jostled by passers-by. She wasn’t just out of ideas. She was out of energy. She clutched the strap of her pack and her biker babe persona as she made her way through less than welcoming streets, careful to avoid eye contact with youths lounging in doorways and huckster’s outside strip clubs. The rim of the sun barely showed in the west between rising peaks. Night came faster when mountains loomed to block the sky, she’d learned. Another reason to hate heights. A better reason to find cover. She couldn’t do night in the open, not even in this neon jungle.
A neon sign pointed down at a massive woman. She squeezed her breasts together and called to a man passing by, urging him to sample her wares. The man shrugged without stopping. Lead kindly light? This was nuts.
Ahead of her, a cryptic notation over a seedy establishment flashed, FOO, the “D” darkened. Half a kindly light? Worth a try, anyway.
The door resisted, then whooshed forward, sending her stumbling inside. The reek of grease, sweaty bodies, and mildew filled her nostrils as a roomful of red rimmed eyes swiveled her way. She resisted the urge to duck her head, swaggered over to straddle an empty stool, tucking her pack securely between her legs and the wall. The plastic was cold against her thighs and sticky.
“Coffee?”
Dani shook her head, peering past the waitress to the soda fountain. She wasn’t surprised that Diet Dr. Pepper wasn’t featured. It rarely was. She sighed. “A Diet Pepsi, please.”
She found a bill in her pocket and tossed it on the counter, watched the waitress add a couple of ice cubes, then some watery soda to float them, before setting it in front of Dani.
“I’ll get your change.”
“That’s all right, keep it.” Dani didn’t fight the impulse, finding in the sad eyes and blank face of the waitress a distraction for her own dreary thoughts.
She fingered the bill, a half smile edging the cynical mouth. “Thanks.”
Dani sucked up the cold, bland fluid, her hands circling the cup to keep them from shaking. In the dirty mirror behind the counter, she saw a bedraggled biker babe with frightened eyes.
“Can I get you something else, honey?” The voice of the waitress was warmer now, touched with sympathy.
Dani looked at her and found that same sympathy softening the cynicism in the woman’s eyes. Was this her kindly light? She managed a stiff smile. “Well, I could use a room for the night.”
She studied Dani for a long moment, then leaned forward to murmur, “My landlady might put you up for the night. But she don’t take no free loaders. It’s cash up front.”
“I got cash. If it’s not too steep.” The story, the character came naturally, from the memory of a part she’d played several years ago. She was too tired to do anything original. “My boyfriend’s pissed at me, says he’s going to cut me. Think’s I cheated on him. Like I’d dare. Thought I’d give him a day or two to cool off.”
“Men.” The woman propped her elbows on the counter in front of Dani. “Name’s Cloris.”
“Louise. I’m—Louise.”
“Order up!” the man behind the counter intoned, his eyes as dead as his voice.
“Yeah, yeah. In a minute.” She glared over her shoulder, then looked back at Dani. “I been there, honey. My ex used to slap me around. Look, you just sit tight. I get off in thirty. But you’ll have to order something. Bart don’t let no one sit without ordering.”
“I was going to anyway. How bout a salad?”
“Soup’s only thing he don’t screw up.”
“Okay. Soup. Do I want pie?”
“Apple won’t kill you.”
“Okay. And a refill on this.” Dani shoved her cup across the counter. Whether from the caffeine or the kindness, she felt better. In the mirror she saw a derelict shuffle in behind her, his body swaying with the effort of holding the door open.
Cloris reared back. “Get outta here…”
“Wait,” Dani grabbed her arm, “give him some dinner. I’ll pay.”
“Probably through the nose, honey. No wonder your old man thinks he can knock you round.” Cloris shook her head, poured the man a cup of coffee, and shoved it at him, then moved away, still muttering.
“Thanks,” the man said as he settled on the stool next to her. The acrid smell of sweat and urine briefly overpowered the stink of grease. The hands he slid around the coffee cup trembled and he spilled some. On one “Mother” had been tattooed with hearts and flowers.
“Give me the meat loaf!” He called after the waitress. He turned back to Dani. “So what’s a nice girl like you doing in a crap hole like this?”
There was, Dani remembered with a sort of awe, a Garth Brooks song about friends in low places. She’d bet her royalties this wasn’t what he had in mind.
Later Cloris became almost loquacious when she was out from behind her counter. About the same age as Dani, she looked years older, was also divorced, trying to make ends
meet with an interrupted education and fading stamina.
“I’m saving up for night school. Figure on being one of them physical therapists.” She filled the short walk to the boarding house, with the minutia of her life while the warmth of human contact filled Dani’s cold places.
Her landlady, small and mean, was inclined to be suspicious, but quickly became amiable when Dani paid her fifty for the night and made it clear she didn’t expect anything back. The room she led Dani to was a tiny box with dark, water stained walls, a few pieces of sad furniture, and a dirty window that looked out on the alley. It smelled of damp and enough ammonia to make her nose burn. When no one was looking, Dani checked for dust, found none, but did pick up a greasy film that wouldn’t rub off her finger tip. Furtive scrabbling came from the corners when the pallid light was switched on. The fire escape and toilet were down the hall. The lock on the door wouldn’t have stopped a terminal senior citizen. Breathing a silent prayer of thanks for the portable motion detector she’d bought from Oxford, the pepper gas, and an illegal hand gun, Dani ran a hand over the sticky surface of her hair and longed for a towel. Maybe Cloris would lend her one.
“Looks good.” Dani smiled determinedly as night crept across the floor toward her. I’ll see you in your dreams. She’d never been so tired or less ready to sleep.
Cloris waited until the landlady shuffled out of earshot. “It ain’t the Ritz, honey, but no one gonna put a fist through your face neither.”
“Hey,” Dani produced a shrug, “it’s better’n what I left. I’m cool with it.” Numb with it, her writer’s brain corrected, always looking for that right word.
“Well,” Cloris made no effort to hide a wide yawn, “gotta hit the rack. See you in the morning. You need anything, I’m right next door.”
“Thanks.” I’ll slip a fifty under her door in the morning, Dani decided, closing her door after her. Careful to not look too closely at her surroundings, Dani opened her pack and dug out her new toy. Oxford had explained how to set the range, how to place it for optimal protection of the area. All she had to do was figure said range. He’d cautioned her against setting it too wide. She didn’t want alarms going off just because Cloris happened to make a midnight trip to the john.
“Math,” she muttered, trying to figure the range. “I hate math.” Especially when she was tired, so tired.
* * * *
“No, not a flophouse,” the derelict said into the telephone. “A rooming house. The address?” He hesitated. “You ain’t gonna hurt her none, are you? Cause she was nice to me. Bought me supper.” A short silence. “Well, that’s all right then. Husband needs to talk to his wife.” He gave the address. “When do I get my money?” Another short silence. “Yeah, I’ll wait here for you.” He replaced the receiver and settled across the street, his eyes on the rooming house the woman had gone into, dreaming of the full bottle of booze he was going to buy with the money.
TEN
Matt eased a finger around the inside of his collar. The words on the page showed faintly through a haze that was part tired, part something he wasn’t willing to acknowledge in a room full of his co-workers.
The sweet musky scent of her cologne dug into his senses as soon as he opened the door, one so completely hers, he could have found her in the black of night. He didn’t have to hunt for her. The lamp on the night stand pitched frail light against the shadows, falling on her where she sat cross-legged in the center of the big bed.
Carolyn. His wife. His love.
His enemy.
Even knowing she wanted to bring him down failed to stop the slow, hot burn of desire from twisting in his gut. Not when the strap of her satin nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the lush curve of her breast. Not when her dark eyes were filled with a mixture of hate and need.
He hesitated, his control tenuous as he waited for her to speak, to tell him to get the hell out.
Only the steady click-click as the clock metered the minutes passing and the languid rustle of leaves against the window broke the heavy silence in the room.
He pushed the door shut and saw her shiver at the sound, but whether from desire or anger, he couldn’t tell. He started toward her, increasing the rise and fall of her chest with each muffled beat of his feet against the thick carpet. When he was close enough to see the dew that coated her skin, he stopped.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Are you?” She lifted her chin higher, opening to his gaze the long, pure line of her neck and the enticing, shadowy valley between her breasts…
Next to him Henry coughed—or choked—it was hard to tell, breaking Matt’s concentration. Matt looked up. His eyes were wide and intent on the book in front of him. He flipped the page, leaning closer to the words. Next to Henry, Riggs unabashedly tugged at his tie, a finger holding his place as he paused to look hopefully at Matt.
“Will real woman do these things?”
“Just read the book,” Matt snapped.
“Yeah.” He dabbed at the sweat beading his forehead. “Read it.”
“I need a cigarette,” Henry muttered, turning a page.
Matt didn’t smoke, but he knew how Henry felt. All too well. All he had to do was close his eyes to see Dani’s biker babe. Unending legs, shadowy valleys, all wrapped in a bit of leather. What was leather anyway? Cow skin. Why should stretching it across a woman’s butt make him want to sit up and beg for mercy? He wanted to throw the book across the room, tear the city apart until he found Dani Gwynne in her hot pants and—what?
Nothing. She was Andersen’s problem, not his. Hayes, he reminded himself, is your problem.
Only it wasn’t visions of Hayes that were dancing like Christmas sugar plums in his head when he searched for his place on the page. He took a deep breath and started again at the shadowy valley between her breasts…
* * * *
The boarding house was on a street that was never completely quiet. A knot of toughs clustered around the doorway, their hard faces intermittently lit by a neon bar sign. Across from the bar was a twenty-four hour market with bars on the window and an air of being hunkered down for another long night. Druggies, bums and hookers dotted the street. Anyone with legitimate business had long since sought refuge behind security barred doors and windows.
With an intentional stagger, Hayes lifted the closed bottle in the paper sack to his lips, using the movement to disguise a thorough examination of the tenement lay out. When it was clear in his head, he turned and shambled toward the alley that led to the back.
He never went in a door that didn’t have another way out, not even when the lust for blood was making his body throb with longing. Patience, he reminded himself, then added with a quick feral smile, beware the fury of a patient man.
Now that he knew where she was, he could contain that fury. Do it right. Do it slow. The derelict he had hired to follow Gwynne was waiting right where he had said he would be. He had been helpful, so Hayes gave him a long drink, then took him out quick. When his body quit twitching, Hayes dumped it in a trash container by the rear door.
There would be no loose ends this time.
* * * *
As night closed in, the sounds from the other boarders faded into an uneasy quiet. Dani sat curled in a semi-fetal position against the rusted headboard with Peg’s gun nearby, her ears tuned for some indication the bathroom was free. Not that she was sure she had the nerve to step into a shower in this Bates Motel clone, no matter how bad she longed to rid her hair of its many colors and thick coating of hair gel.
With no sensation of passing into sleep, Dani found herself back in the hallway of the safe house, only this time it was lined with doors, hundreds of them glowing faintly in a dark, drifting fog. With that peculiar certainty of dreams, she knew Dark Lord was behind one of them. The realization had barely formed in her mind, when one of the doors began to open. She turned to run but she had waited too long. He was coming…
She jerked in her panic and came awake
to a reality only slightly less awful than the dream. It was dark in the room, so dark the outlines of the furniture were shadowy, the window only slightly less so. A feeling of dread thickened air already nasty with the stale smell of grease and old food.
Stiffly, Dani straightened her back, then her neck. Her muscles and the bed springs creaked in protest. Pain snaked up her spine when she reached for the light switch, followed by panic when it didn’t work.
The miracle was it ever worked, she told herself. Just get a grip. She massaged her neck, until it moved semi-normally, then checked her watch, not surprised the glowing dial showed five a.m. Even worse, she needed to pee. No way was she walking down that nasty hall in the dark. Looked like she would be counting the minutes until dawn in heart beats and droplets. How fun.
Outside the noise had abated a bit with the approach of the dawn, but she still might not have heard the furtive scrape outside her door if her ears weren’t conditioned to strain for furtive sounds. Panic re-started a fast crawl up from her gut. She slid off the bed, crouching on the cool, gritty floor on the side away from the door. Her hand closed round the butt of Peg’s gun just as the door swung inwards with a tiny squeak of protest.
* * * *
When Matt stretched out for yet another night on the office couch, he didn’t expect to sleep. Not with his brain playing mouse in a maze going nowhere. Good thing his body knew when to quit even when his brain didn’t. The next thing he knew, Riggs’ voice was calling him out of a deep, dark well. He shook his head, muttered groggily, “What?”
“Police snitch thinks our girl’s in a boarding house off Colfax.”
“Cops been called?” Matt rolled off the couch, despite a pointed protest from his back. Riggs nodded. Matt’s back straightened with an unhappy crack. He headed for the door, was running when he passed through it.
* * * *
The menacing silence pressed in like a pillow over Dani’s face, even as a slight lightening of the sky softened the darkness. She eased back until the wall stopped her, felt for the gun’s safety, and then hesitated. What if it was Cloris or one of the other tenants making a trip to the bathroom? She couldn’t shoot. Not until she knew…and then what? Just pull the trigger? Send bullets thudding into a human body? Just like Richard? Could she kill? Even to save her own life?
The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy Page 10