Completely Mine: Bliss Series, Book Four

by Hall, Deanndra

  It’s Dave who speaks first. “So we’re talking about actual physical evidence.”

  “I think so, and we’ve got to get our hands on it. Photos might be in digital format. But I need that video,” I say in desperation.

  “Is it in online evidence?” Steffen asks.

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s not. They wouldn’t want anything online that someone could hack into. I mean, I’m going to try to find somebody to hack into their system, but I guarantee I won’t find that stuff.”

  “Hmmmm.” That’s Dave’s contribution.

  I’m growing more frustrated by the minute. “What?”

  He leans forward again, elbows on the table. “It seems to me that it would be best if it were retrieved by another member of law enforcement.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know anybody on the D.C. police force.”

  “But they wouldn’t have to be on the force there,” Steffen says. “Just somewhere. Anywhere. And they’d need an excuse to go to D.C. and get the evidence.”

  Clint breaks into this huge grin. “An excuse, like if people have been spotting her in Seattle?”

  “Oh, shit, yeah,” Dave says. “After all, by now the congressman and his guys know she’s out here somewhere. Hell, two of them have been here. We know that.”

  “That’s right,” Clint says, and I see the wheels turning. “So they’ve gotten multiple reports of sightings. And they need the case files so they can get enough background to know what to do if they find her.”

  “But couldn’t they do that in a phone call?” Steffen asks.

  “Yeah, they could, but this is the murder of a congressman’s wife that we’re talking about, so the chief of police here wants that handled personally. He wants to make a good impression with the D.C. department. He wants to know that chain of command hasn’t been broken, evidence hasn’t been compromised, and everyone involved is arrow-straight. So he’s going to send his best guy to D.C. to bring back the necessary evidence.” Clint’s grinning like an ape. He knows this is going to work, and it’s the first hope I’ve gotten.

  “That’ll work for paper evidence, but what about hard evidence? Evidentiary items? And how is he going to get information out of another file? You know they’re bound to have cameras in the evidence lockup,” Dave says. And that’s a good point. I’m sure they do by now.

  “Could he maybe say that the Thurmond woman has a charge pending against her out here and he might as well pick that up while he’s there?” I ask.

  “Nah. That won’t work. How long has it been?” Clint asks.

  “Eight years.”

  “Has it really been that long?” Dave asks and I nod. “Wow. Time flies.”

  “Yeah. And files get archived,” Clint says. “And when they archive files, they usually do it in boxes, and they go into a storage facility. And while the evidence lockup for current cases is monitored closely, there usually isn’t much of a security system in archived areas.” Steffen, Dave, and I stare at him. “What? I learned that in my criminal justice classes! Evidentiary materials!”

  I guess I look pretty surprised. “Criminal justice?”

  Clint nods. “Yeah. I wanted to be a cop. And Christi wouldn’t have it. So never mind that.” That’s why he’s always armed. “Even got as far as the academy. I was doing really well too. Oh, well, ancient history.” He lets out a long sigh. “So now we’ve got to try to find somebody who can get into an evidence lockup in D.C.”

  “Yeah. I have no clue who that might be,” I whisper and bury my face in my hands. This is hopeless.

  Steffen chimes in. “One of us could pose as―”

  “NO! No. I don’t want anybody doing something that would get them thrown in jail,” I blurt out.

  “But if a cop from another jurisdiction goes in, wouldn’t he get in trouble?” Dave asks.

  Clint shakes his head. “Not if there was a legitimate sighting and he legitimately needs case info to work on apprehension. No. One department can’t withhold evidence from another. That’s federal law right there.”

  “Okay, so Brian, do you know anybody who’s on the police force here?” Dave asks.

  “Nope.”

  “I don’t either,” Clint says.

  Steffen shakes his head. “Me neither.”

  “Maybe somebody at the club does,” Clint offers.

  And that gives me an idea. “Hang on.”

  I rifle through my contacts until I find the one I want. I think he was the very first person who ever signed up for a membership at the club. It only rings once and he says, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Larry! It’s Brian from Bliss.”

  “Hey, Brian! How’s it going?”

  “Going good. By the way, thanks for the newspaper article. I was glad to get it.” No. I wasn’t. It ruined my whole life. But that’s another story, one he doesn’t need to hear, and it certainly wasn’t his fault. “Say, you’ve probably been a member of the club longer than anybody. Do you know of any member who’s a police officer? Deputy sheriff? Anything?”

  “Nope. Sorry. Used to have a guy who was a cop, but he moved away.”

  Damn it. I was sure I had a chance of finding someone. “Okay. Well, if you can think of anybody who’s in law enforcement who has a connection to a club member, I’d really appreciate it if―”

  “Oh. Well, yeah, my brother-in-law’s not a member but he is a city detective.”

  Holy shit. It’s my lucky day. “Seriously? Oh my god. Listen, I need to talk to him, but I need to know: Can he be trusted?”

  “If you can trust me, you can trust him. He’s a great guy. Remember that serial killer case we had out here about ten years ago? Where the killer kept putting animal body parts in the mouths of his victims?”

  “Yeah! I do.”

  “That’s the case he got his promotion on. He’s the one who cracked it. Would you like to meet him?”

  “Yes. Yes, please, the sooner the better.”

  “Is this something confidential?”

  I swallow hard. “Very.”

  “Okay. Let me set up a meeting between the two of you and get the ball rolling. And whatever it is, Brian, good luck.”

  “Thanks, Larry. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re more than welcome. See you at the club tonight?”

  “You can bet on it. Bye. And thanks again.” I hang up the phone and stare at the three men. “Larry’s brother-in-law is the detective who cracked the ‘Animal Soup’ murder investigation. He’s going to put us together.”

  “Then let him figure this out,” Clint says. “Don’t try to tell him how to do it. He’ll know best.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know when we’re going to meet, but I hope it’s soon.” God, I hope it’s very soon. Every minute that I haven’t found her is a minute they could, so every one of those minutes is one minute too long.

  Because that’s all it’ll take. One minute. And she’ll be gone forever.

  For the first time, I actually feel like doing something instead of moping. I know nothing’s happened yet, but I pray that it will. I go home, put away the clothes I picked up from the cleaners, clean out the refrigerator, take the trash to the chute, and straighten up my desk. She’d approve. She wouldn’t want me living like a pig because she isn’t here. And I’ve still got an hour before I have to be at the club.

  After my shower, I pull on my leathers and a dark green tee, then my socks and boots. Before I walk out the door, I make sure there’s a lamp on. If she comes back, I don’t want her to find the place dark.

  By the time I get the bar set up, there are about eight members there. Second one to walk through the door is Melina. “Hey, babe, how’s it going?”

  “You talked to Dave, didn’t you?” I ask. I can see it on her face―she feels sorry for me.

  “I did, honey. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Not a thing unless you can find her and bring her back.”

  “I wish I could. If I could, y
ou know I would,” she croons, then pats my face. God, I love her. She’s one of the purest souls I’ve ever met, not a mean-spirited bone in her body.

  I catch her hand with my free one and kiss her palm. “I know. And thank you for being a good friend.”

  “You’re welcome, baby. Hope I can find some play tonight. I need some stress relief!” she says, laughing, and strolls to the locker room.

  The night is busy, and at least three of the performance areas are in use. I’ve turned to watch Master Black use the bullwhip on his submissive when a voice whispers in my ear, “Go open the back door.” I wheel to find Larry standing right behind me like he’s watching the scene over my shoulder. “Now.”

  I don’t even think about the bar, just take off and almost run for the back hallway. When I throw open the back door, a man stands there, a little under six feet tall and kind of stocky. He doesn’t say a word, just motions through the door, so I open it and head for my office. As soon as he’s inside, I close the door and lock it, then point to a chair, but he doesn’t sit down. I start to say something and he throws a finger up to his lips, so I stop. Then he pulls this little box from his pocket and moves around the room. It beeps very slowly, and the beeping doesn’t change. I guess he’s satisfied because he says, “All clear. Can’t be too careful.” Shit. He was checking for a bug. I know that’s what it was.

  I point to the chair again. “Please have a seat.”

  “Thanks. Mr. Zimmer?”

  “Yes. Brian. And you are …”

  “Detective Matt Littlemeier. Larry is my brother-in-law. He said you need some help?”

  “Yes, sir. I do, on the Sandria Pike case.” At the mention of Cirilla’s real name, his eyebrows shoot up. “Please hear me out. Two different people, a private detective and one of the officers who worked the case in D.C., both told me there was evidence to prove she was innocent, but it disappeared. I need that evidence, sir. I need to clear her name once and for all.”

  “Do you know where she is?” he asks.

  “No, sir. She took off when her picture accidentally showed up on the front page of the paper.”

  “Yeah. The charity thing you did. Larry told me about that, but he didn’t tell me about the picture. So tell me everything you know.”

  I start in, terrified. What if he’s working with them? What if he uses this information to find Cirilla and kill her? Who should I trust? I trust Larry and, at this point, I have no choice. I’ve got to trust somebody.

  He’s writing things down, but when I get a glimpse of his notebook, I realize no one could read it but him. It’s like it’s some kind of shorthand he’s developed for himself, and that makes me feel better. “Okay, and so these two FBI agents, what did you say their names were?”

  “Forrester and Ringstaff.”

  “And you checked with the field office?”

  “Yes, sir. But they didn’t know them.”

  “Would you recognize them if you saw their photos?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. I most definitely would.”

  “You got a computer?”

  “Sure.” I pull my laptop from the desk and watch as he opens it and starts tapping around. Pretty soon, he’s earlobe deep in something.

  He spins it to face me, and I see that he’s on a departmental website. “This one of them?”

  “No.”

  He hits one of the arrow keys. “How ‘bout this one?”

  “No.”

  “Or this one?”

  I stare at it for a minute and my stomach lurches. “Yeah. That’s not one of them, but I do recognize that guy. He’s watched her three or four times over the last month.”

  “Uh-huh. We know who he is. Let’s look at some more.” Another punch of the arrow key and he spins the laptop, but he says nothing.

  And my heart almost stops. “Yes. That’s the guy who identified himself as Agent Forrester.”

  “Okay, what about this one?” he says and hits that arrow again.

  “Yes! That’s the Agent Ringstaff guy.”

  He sighs as he turns the laptop back to him and logs out of the website. “All three of those guys are employees of the congressman. Known associates. The congressman has been under investigation for a long time, but no one’s been able to pin anything on him.”

  “Holy shit,” I murmur. Somebody believes me. “So now what?”

  “Now the ball is in my court. I’ve got to figure out a way to get into that evidence lockup. I don’t know who to trust, and I sure as hell don’t trust anybody in D.C. Would you be willing to talk to my captain? If I can get an assignment to look at this, it’ll make things much easier.”

  “Sure! Of course. But I can’t be seen―”

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure something out. You may get a weird phone call. If you do, play along and listen carefully. And Brian … do you mind if I call you Brian?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Call me Matt. And I remember all of this in the news. I remember looking at the TV and thinking, ‘That girl didn’t do this. I don’t think she has it in her.’ Of course, the press wanted to vilify her as the mistress of a cheating politician, but I think there was more going on than that. Anyway, I can play the angle of sightings in the area, which will tie us to the investigation. And it’s been how long?”

  “Eight years.”

  “That means some of the guys on the force from back then are gone. It also means that the files have likely been moved. If they have, they could be in such a fucked-up mess that it’ll take forever to find them. And I’ve got to find a way to connect this Marjorie Thurmond to something else in order to have an excuse for that one. Or just find the file and take the evidence. I dunno. I’ll work it out, maybe get the building plans from the city under open records and look them over. And I want my chief to talk to you.”

  “Yes, sir. Whatever you need, sir.” I hesitate for a second, afraid of the question I know I have to ask. “Matt, do you think we have any chance of pulling this off?”

  “Yes, although it won’t be easy. The police department there has buried this as a security blanket in case the congressman comes after them. They’ve hidden the evidence for him and from him. My job is to get that evidence and not get killed in the process. That’s the tricky part. If I can pull this off, I’m going to be asking for another promotion.”

  “If you can pull this off, you’ll deserve it,” I say with the first grin I’ve been able to muster up in weeks.

  He stands and I know this is over. It’s up to him now. “Okay. I’ll be in touch. And thank you for trusting me. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

  “No, thank you. I look forward to hearing from you.” Before I can say another word, he shakes my hand and walks out.

  I just sit there, staring at the desktop. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever have guessed I’d be in the middle of something like this. Doesn’t matter. Cirilla’s at the heart of it, and I’ve got to find her. I just pray that wherever she is, she has food and clothes and a place to sleep.

  And I hope she’s thinking about me, because I’m sure as hell thinking about her.

  * * *

  It’s quiet. I hear nothing. Not one damn word. I’m beginning to believe that nothing is happening until I get a call on Thursday afternoon.

  “Mr. Zimmer?” a female voice says.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “This is Donna at Brewster’s Car Detailing. Your car is done if you want to grab a cab and come get it.”

  Shit, I need to know where to go and I don’t know how to ask. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can get there. Where do I need to have them drop me off, front or back?”

  “Have them drop you off at the back on Warren Street, not the front door on Campbell Drive. The roll-up door will be down, so knock on the door that says Customers Only. Big blue sign on the door. Can’t miss it.”

  Corner of Warren and Campbell. Perfect. “Yes, ma’am. No problem. Thanks.”

  “You’re
welcome.”

  I hustle around and call a cab, then grab my jacket and keys. By the time I get downstairs, the cab is there, and I send them hurtling toward the destination. Sure enough, there are only two buildings on that corner. The other two corners are vacant lots. One is a place that must’ve been a bakery. The other actually has a sign that says Brewster’s Auto Detailing. How convenient. By the time the cab rolls away, I’m at the door and knocking.

  It opens and I find Matt standing on the other side. It takes him a couple of minutes to introduce me to his chief, Carlton Tabors, and he seems like a straight-up kinda guy. Chief Tabors gets right to the point. “Detective Littlemeier has given me all the information. You do realize, if we take this, it won’t be to exonerate your friend. It’ll be to see justice served.”

  “I understand that, sir, and that’s fine. That’s all I want too, because I’m confident she didn’t do this.”

  “Detective Littlemeier is too. I understand you have some witnesses who’ve given you information?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I have all that,” Matt says.

  “Good, good. We’re not going to contact them yet, just get the information from the files in D.C. and then if we need clarification, we’ll contact them. I understand they’ve put themselves in harm’s way to even talk to you, and I don’t want to jeopardize their situations any further unless it’s necessary.”

  “I appreciate that, sir,” I say, and I really do. I like this guy. He seems to want to do the right thing, and he doesn’t care if it hurts me, as long as it’s the right thing. That’s something I’m totally comfortable with.

  “Good. We will have eyes on you at all times. Don’t let that shake you up, but I didn’t want you to realize someone was watching you and think it was the bad guys. We’re concerned for your safety too,” Chief Tabors said.

  “I don’t care about my safety, sir. I just want Cirilla, uh, Sandria to be safe.”

  “I understand that, but if she makes it through this and something’s happened to you, well, that won’t be good for her, right?” I nod. “So don’t worry about how we’re going to do it. Just know that we will. And I don’t know how long it will take, so please, be patient with us.”