by R. T. Wolfe
His end goal was CODIS, NCIC and any other federal database where he could dig into the protected files of the johns and thugs he had already researched legally. They would also comb through the files of the victims. It may be wrong but would be necessary. They might find a shot as Zheng staked out one of them, grooming her or whatever they called that demented shit. This was going to take time and would have taken even more time if they hadn't done this sort of thing a dozen times before. "Two coffees." He set them on the table away from their machines. "One black and leaded and one frappe thing for the Reed who needs to learn to drink like a man."
"I've got the new security down. We just need to wait now. Give me my frappe, mother fucker."
It was Duncan's turn. He watched and waited for someone to enter a user name and password. He would be able to break down the binary code into letters and numbers, memorizing each.
"It's none of my business, but you rode Abigail without Nickie."
He could feel his face wince as if he'd been sucker punched. He didn't answer.
"And that's the face you make each time I mention her name."
"Stop looking at my face and watch the screens. I can't scan all four at once." Nickie called his eidetic memory a super power. When would time start to heal?
"Rose said she answers her texts."
What? He turned to look at Andy.
"Ah. I knew that would get you."
"You're lying?"
"No. She does answer, but Rose says they are short and off. Talk to me, dude."
He turned his focus back to his tablet. "Shit, Andy. I missed one." He got the password, but not the ID.
"Brother." Andy put his hand over Duncan's screen. "Talk to me."
"What do you want me to say? She kept me an arm's length away for a year. It worked for a while, and although I understand why she does it, I'm not willing to be that anymore. I asked her to marry me."
"You what? Why the hell didn't you tell me? What did she say?"
What did she say? "I don't think she said anything."
"What do you mean you don't think she said anything? You never forget anything."
He had never told Andy about his... memory. Did he know? Surely, he didn't know. "I sort of barked it at her. We were arguing. Or, I was arguing. She sat there."
"Did you have a ring? What has she said since? How do you bark a proposal?"
"I haven't talked to or seen her since. It's up to her now."
"You dumb ass. Call her. What the hell's the matter with you? She's the best thing that's ever happened to you. She gets your crazy brain." Andy flicked him on the side of the head.
Duncan's eyes left the screen again, this time as a defense. If he weren't in such shock over the comment about his brain, he would bend Andy's flicking fingers back until they cracked. He'd never told anyone about his eidetic memory. Although, their hacking would lead one to believe...
It was more of a freakish circus act in Duncan's opinion. After a few years as a child, their aunt figured it out. After two weeks, Nickie figured it out. He missed her more each waking minute, but he wasn't going to call her.
"This is about your life, man."
Duncan closed his eyes. His shoulders became as heavy as his heart. "You're right, Andy. Everything you're saying is right. And it's why I have to stick with my decision. She wants halfway, and I can't do halfway anymore."
Andy bumped his shoulder in time for Duncan to open his eyes to the employee ID as it was typed in. All Andy would see was the binary code. Duncan knew how to break it down. Their system didn't provide for case sensitive. It took several dozen trial and error attempts to test which letters were caps and which weren't, but in twenty minutes time, they were in.
It wasn't a good idea to stay in one café too long. They weren't college boys anymore. Two adult males sitting with coffee for too long would draw attention, so they took their user names and passcodes and hauled their machines down the street to a chain coffee store.
Duncan worked on his fourth cup of java as Andy re-created his complicated maze of a trail. It gave him time to think. Too much time to think. He and Andy's last efforts at hacking. Discovering Nickie's parents—her own flesh and blood—had illegally concealed the crime scene file containing the details of her abduction. She'd had more people deceive her in her short lifetime than most experienced throughout eternity.
Andy connected their machines to the link they'd saved, then started surfing through the files of each person, innocent and guilty, from the sex trafficking ring Duncan and Nickie had helped take down. They searched in silence for four hours, much longer than Duncan had asked of Andy. His brother was like that. Together, they found a total of six additional pictures of Zheng.
Duncan's teeth ground as he copied and studied the date stamps. Three of them coincided with dates and locations of where Nickie had been. Add those to the time Duncan spotted him at the casino in Vegas nearly a year ago, and he could hardly keep himself in his seat.
His proposal didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Zheng was close. He'd been keeping tabs on her. It wasn't the first time Duncan had discovered someone, somewhere had put a tail on her. The personal assistant to the governor, the former captain at the NPD. Duncan pulled out his phone. Slowly, Andy put his hand over it. Their eyes met and Duncan read what was his brother was thinking. If Zheng was this close, he could be tracing Duncan's calls.
Chapter 9
She wasn't going home. Not again. Not to the bag that sat in her foyer. Nickie had placed some of those bar things people put in their windows to keep people out. Not that Zheng couldn't bust through the glass if he really wanted to. But she would hear that. Or see it. And she wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a cop. She had a gun and could kick the ass of some forty-five-ish-year-old scumbag who got his kicks from using and abusing young teens.
But the bag. The handcuffs by Zheng or whoever were nothing compared to facing the bag. She stepped into the shower at the station and turned the water to blistering. Closing her eyes, she turned her face to the nozzle and let the water beat down her cheeks, her forehead. She would stay there until she could think straight again or until she became a prune, whichever happened first.
It wasn't getting better. Tremors shook her head, her heart. Could she do it? Could she give herself to him? Entirely? It would be like a dream. How could she deserve that? She was a bitch. She was a head case bitch who woke up swinging when her past came to haunt her. Or when it left handcuffs attached to the four corners of her bed. But he knew all the parts of her, good and bad. And he asked her anyway. Or did he? Was it something he threw out in the heat of a moment? She lathered her hair and ran the lavender suds quickly over her body.
Turning, she let the water beat at the scars, then craned her head and let it turn her hair into silky threads that brushed the middle of her back. This was insane. She was off her game, couldn't wrap her head around her case. There was shit she didn't know. It had been a week since the A.D.A. had authorized the bug on SS8.
SS8.
Shit. The backs of the checks. Way off her game. Turning off the water, she grabbed a towel. Barely dry, she held her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she pulled on her slacks. "Lynx?"
"You're calling me?"
"Yeah, we have work to do."
"Aren't you here?"
"I'm in the shower."
"Yum."
"Shut up, dickhead. Meet me—"
"I'll be right there."
"Forget it. I don't need you." She heard him apologizing as she hung up and realized he should have been home for the day by this time.
A quick braid and she was good enough. She wasn't a prune and couldn't nearly say she could think straight, but she had something to occupy her time that didn't involve going home.
He was in her office when she got there. Sitting in her chair. His feet were propped on her desk. "You don't have on any makeup."
She was too psyched to worry about it.
"I've neve
r seen you without makeup. You don't need any."
"Get out of my chair, Lynx."
"I'm here for the work we have to do."
She had a good feeling about this, a hunch if she had to admit it, although she never would out loud.
"Take these," she said, handing him a stack of the paper copies of J & JJ canceled checks. "Go through the backs. Who signed them? How were they signed?" Why hadn't she done this already?
Three Diet Cokes later, she was still stuck at square one. Police work could be boring as shit. She loved it.
"It's been two weeks," he said. She barely heard him.
"Hmm?" Most of the checks were stamped 'J & JJ/For Deposit Only.' Standard.
"It's been two weeks since you talked about him."
He didn't refer to Duncan as Pretty Boy. Not a good sign. "I never talk about him." The printouts of the fronts and backs of the checks were hard to read. It was late, and her eyes were tiring. She looked up at the clock. Close to midnight. She stopped and leaned back. "What are you still doing here?"
"You asked for my help." He leaned into her and took her hand between both of his. They were warm. Or else her hands were cold. The station turned the heat down at night. Standing, she headed for her coat.
"And you're right. You don't talk about him, but I can tell. What's going on, Nick? I'm here for you."
He was. She had to give him that. "I didn't realize it was so late. I asked for your help. But I... What were you even doing here when I called? You should go home." She draped the coat over her shoulders, plopped in her chair and started thumbing through checks.
"Home to what?"
"Yeah. Two peas, huh?" She never answered him about Duncan.
"Bam," Nickie said and flicked the paper in front of her. "A check written for six thousand, five hundred. Made out to The Guest House."
"Not so weird. Are you reaching here, Nick?"
She turned over the copy of the check and held it out to him. On the back it read, 'Pay to the order of SS8.'
"What the hell is The Guest House?"
Good question. The deposit was local. She thought she knew every local spot within a thirty-mile radius. But she did know who to ask.
* * *
It was late, so Duncan drove to her town house before dropping off his brother. "Wait here."
Andy scoffed and got out of the Barracuda, following him to the front door.
Duncan rang and waited, then rang again. Why did he give back that damned key? He tried to look between her drawn mini-blinds. "What the fuck? She installed locking bars." His chest started to heave.
"Let's check for her car," Andy said.
"Good idea." Why hadn't he thought of that? What was the matter with him? They hurried to the few parking spaces next to her unit. Her town car wasn't there.
"I'm going to try the station. I'll take you home first."
Andy scoffed again.
"She's okay, brother," Andy said as Duncan sped toward NPD, the engine of his Barracuda loud enough to hear halfway across town. They only called each other brother if they were giving each other shit, or if they were dead serious. Andy was not giving him shit, so Duncan slowed down. It wasn't going to do them any good if they crashed.
His heart sank as he found her spot empty. "Come on," Andy suggested. "Let's take a drive through the parking deck just in case."
It was useless, Duncan knew. Never, in the year he'd known Nickie, had she parked anywhere but in the gravel section of staff parking. But it couldn't hurt so he drove as carefully as his lead foot would take him.
As they exited the deck, Andy spoke up again. "Call her from my landline. The chances of Zheng tracing it are practically nil."
Duncan let his eyes wander as he considered. "But I'd be calling Nickie and her phone would be his first target."
"Maybe you can be covert. Lie or something. Tell her you've changed your mind?"
It would be worth it. "Good idea. I'll use my landline. I haven't used it in months. I can make it sound authentic in case he's got it tapped. You're a good man, Andy."
Duncan dropped him off to his wife and baby before he climbed the hill to his house. As he did, he forced himself to take cleansing breaths. He wouldn't have Andy to help him think clearly. His Nickie. If Zheng laid a single finger on her, he would crush him with his hands and watch as he choked on his spit.
He parked in front of his steps. It was faster. He took the stairs two at a time, unlocked the oak door and almost forgot to disengage the alarm as he stepped inside. His landline was in the far back of his home. He ran to it. The woods were black behind his house. They appeared glossy through the large picture window.
Picking up his phone, he set it down. He had no idea what to say. Slowly, he picked it up again and held the traditional unit to his ear. He dialed her number. It seemed to ring in slow motion.
"Detective Savage. Leave a message." The sound of her voice, alto and smooth. He ached to call back just to hear it again.
"Nickie. It's me. I've had some time to think, and I'd like you to call me as soon as you get this message. I mean, please call me. I've... got some things to do tonight and—So, call me now. Okay?"
* * *
Nickie parked between Slippery Jimbo's two favorite T & A bars, one of which was named T & A's. She brought Parker with her. Since Eddy had tomorrow off, she would take whatever shit he gave her about it on Monday. It had been past time for him to go home but she didn't want to face the bag in her foyer yet. Parker was on graveyard. He was the logical choice. As if she'd made a single logical choice in the past two weeks, she thought sarcastically.
Glancing in her passenger seat, she couldn't help but stare. She planned to have him wait in the car. Lookout or backup or whatever. He would stick out like a sore cop thumb, right? Nope. He used some hair product thing to spike his blond locks. She could only see the ones over his forehead since he wore an Under Armor hoodie flipped up over the rest. His pants sagged so low, his bright green boxers peeked out between the hoodie and his torn blue jeans. He was young enough to pull it off and had the best undercover getup she'd seen in all her days in police work.
It was well past midnight. She would sit and watch for Jimbo for twenty or so, then stop in his favorite joints, letting Parker keep her car running. It was too cold for smokers to hang out by the entrances. She knew they wouldn't abstain until warmer weather and would be smoking in all the non-smoking spots up and down the street. A few people staggered from door to door. Occasionally, one crunched through the snow to the coffee shop a few doors down. She might have already missed him, but it wasn't like she wanted to go home.
She'd reclined her seat and propped her boots on the dash to the side of her steering wheel. She sipped her bottle of Diet Coke. Parker had a paper cup full of coffee that had to be ice cold by now. She kept one eye on the door to Get Lucky's and the other in her rearview mirror at T & A's.
Check the sidewalks? Harass Parker? Harassing Parker would be much more fun. "So, what do ya think about the new A.D.A.?"
Smooth, confident Officer Parker nearly tipped his paper cup full of cold coffee all over his designer holey jeans. "Sir? I mean ma'am. I mean Detective?"
"We're on a stake out together, Parker. Call me Nick or Savage. Drop the detective, and if you call me ma'am again, I'm going to shove your nose into the back of your head."
"I don't think anything about Ms. Vaughn, Detective Savage."
"Bullshit. I'm a cop, remember?" His red face was enough of an answer for her. "Have you told her how you feel? Asked her out?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Detective Savage."
"You know, cute, forty-something redhead? All prim and pretty? Smart?"
"She's in her thirties, Detective Savage."
Nickie shook her head. "Got you. She's thirty-five. I knew that already."
Come on, Jimbo. Show yourself. She needed a tussle. He would be a satisfying target. She'd lost count of how many times she'd put him away just to have
his scumbag lawyer get him off. She was the one who gave him the name Slippery Jimbo, after all.
He staggered out of Get Lucky's escorted by a man a full head taller with a neck as big around as Jimbo's leg. He jerked his arm free of the bouncer's grasp, nearly heading face-first into the exhaust-gray snow along the curb.
Chapter 10
Nickie got out of her car and tied the belt from her coat tighter around her waist. "Slippery Jimbo! What a pleasant surprise."
"Oh, fuck me." He shook his head and looked around as if he possibly had a chance at making a run for it.
"Ain't nobody wants to do that with you, Jimbo." She grabbed him by the back of his jacket and hauled him to the brick wall next to the black-painted window of the bar he'd just been ejected from. Over her shoulder, she saw that Parker had followed and realized she hadn't shared with him her wait-in-the-car strategy.
"I've got a woman now, Detective Dude. I told you that." Pathetically, he tried to straighten himself as his arms lifted outward from the way she yanked his coat.
"Oh, that's right. She know you're getting kicked out of the scummiest titty bar in town?"
"You know the scummiest bar in town is T & A's, Detective Dude. Get Lucky's is respectable. I was just coming to see you, man. First thing in the morning, I swear on my mama's grave."
"Your mama lives in public housing." She smacked the side of his head. "And I don't want you coming to see me. You're not my informant."
He didn't come back with a smart-ass retort or a plea to trade money for worthless information. Not a good sign.
"I only saw your Asian dude once, and it wasn't all that long ago," he slurred. "Give me a break, will you? I'm a busy man, and I was coming to see you, I was."
She stood, still holding his coat, and lifted his chin with her other hand. Leaning into him, she put the stench of his cigarette and alcohol-laden breath out of her mind. "Where, when, you little shit?" He took too long to answer, so she pulled him away from the brick wall, then slammed him back against it.