by G. K. Parks
“Shit.” I got up to pace. “That must be why Wilde was too busy to stop by. There has to be evidence linking him to the deceased. A ride like that would have taken all night. Wasn’t he leading a group? Someone must have seen him leave.”
“Surveillance places him at the commune last night. All night. We spotted him when he arrived, and he didn’t leave again.”
“What if there’s another way off the property? Have you pinged his phone? If he placed any calls during the night, it would have bounced off different cell towers, and we can use that to prove that he wasn’t home. We might be able to put him at the scene of the murder.”
“Stella’s working on it, but we have no proof. I don’t think we’ll get a court order for his phone records.” Decker took the skillet off the stove. “Dammit.” He slammed it down on the counter.
“Call Wilde,” I urged. “Perhaps he’ll let something slip if you catch him off guard.”
“He has morning meals now. He’ll phone afterward. I know it.” He licked his lips, frustrated with the circumstances. “This shit keeps happening, and every time, it’s just another fucking dead end. I know he’s behind it, but I have absolutely no way of proving it. I don’t expect this to be any different.”
“It is different. You have me this time.” Processing what I knew, I grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and jotted down some notes. “Since Alice is going to be laid up, I can use the downtime to get on top of this murder. Barring the possibility that it’s not the same guy or it really was just a coincidence, there has to be something to find.” I met his eyes. “I’ll find it. I’m part bloodhound.” He didn’t seem convinced, so I gave him a playful wink. “That’s why I’m such a bitch.”
Rewarding me with a half smile, he pulled some plates from the cupboard and put them on the table. “Guess we might as well eat.”
He didn’t say another word while he shoveled the food into his mouth. I was fairly certain he didn’t taste any of it. He was annoyed that another murder occurred on his watch, and our plan might have been the impetus for some schmuck’s death. He never voiced it, and I chose not to think about it. My conscience was already overloaded.
Once Wilde collected Jace, I’d be able to get to work. Even if this was my cover apartment, it allowed a modicum of privacy. The DEA had it swept for bugs every week, so I knew it was clean. As long as I was discreet and covered my tracks, I’d be able to research the case, contact Eckhardt for the latest updates, and run everything by Mark. Whatever I couldn’t access, he could. Maybe this wasn’t a hundred kilos of coke or a dead drug mule. But murder was a heinous crime, and this asshole crossed state lines when he abandoned the car, making it a federal matter. Since he wanted to take the game onto my home court, he’d get schooled.
The phone chimed, and Jace glanced down at the message. “Tim’s on his way. You better get ready.”
Nodding, I left the table, wrapped my ankle, brought a few extra pillows into the living room, and grabbed the ice pack out of the freezer. Then I hid my notes inside the fireplace grate, giving the place a quick check. It appeared to be just another luxury apartment.
“You need to mention that your stay here is only temporary. The lawyers are concerned that they have to sell off assets to pay the remaining debt before you stand to regain access to your trust fund.” Jace gave me a pointed look. “Now’s as good a time as any to clue Tim in on this fact. Remember, you’re having a shitty day. You’re scared. You’re hurt. And you’re pissed.”
“Sounds like most days. But you don’t want me to oversell it. If I do, then how can Tim be sure that I’ll inherit anything? Perhaps luring me in is a waste of time.”
“Don’t worry about that. I know Tim. He’s done his research, and Ben planted enough evidence to make your win in court obvious to even a layperson. It’s just a waiting game until your assets are unfrozen, which gives Tim a limited window of opportunity to swoop in and save the day. At the end of the month, you’ll be evicted. And without any income, you won’t be able to get another apartment in the meantime.”
“And without liquid assets, I can’t exactly move into a hotel for the long haul.”
“Precisely. Everything will change once you’re at the commune full time. Enjoy the freedom while you have it.”
“I plan to use my remaining time to build our case against him.”
“Yeah,” Decker sounded skeptical, “good luck with that.”
Before I could say anything else, the doorman buzzed to tell me there was a visitor. After giving permission for Tim to come upstairs, I took a seat on the sofa and propped my foot up on the pillows, dropping the ice on top. Jace put the dishes in the sink and opened the door as soon as Tim knocked. He gestured our mark inside, plastering a pleasant smile on his face, even though he wanted to kill him.
“Good morning,” Tim greeted, friendly warmth seeping out of every pore of his body. “Are things looking brighter today?”
I rolled my eyes. “Definitely not.” After spending a few minutes bitching about the doctor mandated break from dancing, I moved on to the talking points that Decker and I had just finished discussing, concluding with a rambling list of Alice’s growing fears. “I can’t even think where I can go. I’ll have to start looking soon, but I don’t even know if I want to be here. It doesn’t seem safe, not after everything that happened yesterday. I was attacked in broad daylight in the parking lot of a family restaurant. How screwed up is that? What if that guy comes back? What if they never catch him? I just don’t know.”
“Don’t be afraid.” Tim sat next to me. “The police will find him. I’m sure of it. Everyone at the restaurant is on the lookout, and I told my friends about it. If anyone sees anything suspicious, they’ll report it.” He glanced at Jace before turning back to me. “I’m sorry that we inconvenienced you last night. I just couldn’t get away, but I thought you might be comforted to know that you had a friendly face nearby in case you needed anything.”
“We had fun,” I said. “Jace made dinner, and we played cards. He even got up early and made breakfast. He’s done a lot.” I smiled at him. “Thank you.”
Decker ran a hand through his hair. “Anyone would have done the same thing. It’s no biggie.”
Tim looked around the room. “This is a really nice place. I’m sure the money issues will be straightened out soon. Have faith.” Abruptly, he stood. “We should get going, but I want you to promise me something, Alex.” He waited until I met his eyes before continuing. “If you need anything at all or you start to feel overwhelmed or scared, you’ll call me. Okay?”
I nodded. “I will.”
“Good.” Tim squeezed my shoulder, and I fought to keep the cringe off my face. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”
“I’ll manage.”
Jace cleared his throat. “I’ll make sure to drop by in a few days to check on you.”
“We both will.” Tim went to the door, ushering Jace out ahead of him and giving me a final goodbye wave. He was definitely an exceptional conman. Too bad we were on to him.
Fourteen
“I can’t be completely certain, unless you put a Zorro mask on the corpse, but he looks like the man that assaulted me.” I zeroed in on the photograph of the abandoned vehicle. It had been stripped, but it looked like the same car that I’d seen the previous afternoon. “Who was he?”
“Vincent Harbring,” Eckhardt volunteered, reading the name and address off the man’s driver’s license. “It looks like he resided south of here, much closer to the border, but not so far that it would be out of the question for him and Wilde to have crossed paths.”
“Do we know that they crossed paths?” I asked, and Eckhardt turned to Ben.
Ben clicked away at a couple of keys, sending previous addresses and employment history to the big screen. Then he overlapped that with what we knew about Timothy Wilde, but there wasn’t an obvious connection. That would have been too simple.
“What about Harbring’s connection
to the restaurant?” Eve asked, clicking away at her keyboard. “From what we’ve gathered since Alex’s arrival, Wilde’s chummy with the owner. Plus, it’s one of the only places he frequents in town.”
“Maybe he’s buds with the choreographer too,” I piped up.
Eve shook her head. “That’s doubtful. He has to know someone in management, if not you wouldn’t have gotten any type of job. Wilde wanted you to get it, probably to see if the miracle would be enough to lead you to his commune.” She narrowed her eyes at the screen and clicked a few more keys. “When that didn’t happen, he moved on to plan B.”
Stella made a tsk sound, shuffling through some paperwork. “The LAPD is investigating the shooting, but an eyewitness said it was a gang hit. Unless we can prove otherwise, we can’t expand the scope of the investigation to include Wilde. If anything, our investigation into him provides an airtight alibi.”
“What about one of his disciples?” Decker’s words echoed through my mind. “They’d do anything for him. Perhaps he sent one of them to take care of Harbring.”
Eckhardt inhaled deeply, letting out a groan. “Why do it? The man wore a mask. You can’t be certain of his identity, and from what you said, Tim basically promised that the man will be apprehended. Killing him doesn’t serve a purpose.”
“You don’t think Wilde was afraid that Harbring would squeal if he was arrested?” Carlo asked. “Parker’s description was spot-on. Wilde never would have expected that type of recollection. Maybe he panicked and cut his losses.”
I let my gaze skim across the images and words until they became a blur. “Harbring has no known connection to the commune. That means he has to be part of Wilde’s illegal dealings, assuming non-cult members are involved. This random, seemingly unconnected murder has to lead to something.”
Stella exhaled a murmuring hum, and I turned to her. “There is another possibility here.”
“Don’t say it,” Eckhardt hissed.
She ignored him, crossing the room to stand in front of us. “Harbring’s death might be unrelated. It could have been a gang initiation.” She pointed at the photo of the cars. “We’ve seen this before. Cars get jacked, driven across county or state lines, dumped, and stripped. Harbring might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She offered me an apologetic look. “You admitted that you aren’t even certain it’s the same man.”
Letting the words roll off my back, I shrugged away the frustration. “Okay, say you’re right, we should at least determine what brought Vincent Harbring to that neighborhood at that time of night. He didn’t live there. He was far from home and in a bad part of town. He was up to something. Maybe he was looking to score or looking to deal. If your assumptions about Wilde’s involvement in the drug trade are accurate, that’s where you need to look.” The DEA agents exchanged a few glances, making me acutely aware that I wasn’t in charge. I didn’t mean to take over. It just happened. “I’ll get out of your hair and phone Jablonsky. If the local field office knows anything, I’ll pass it along.”
Eckhardt checked his watch. “Keep track of the time. You don’t want to look suspicious in the event Wilde shows up at your place unannounced.”
“Wouldn’t Jace tip us off?” I asked.
Matt snorted. “You have to keep in mind his cover has a day job, courtesy of Tim. We do have surveillance on the commune, but if Tim leaves, we aren’t always in a position to track him.”
Nodding, I continued out of the command center and to the tiny space the DEA had been kind enough to provide for my use. From the dimensions, I had a feeling it had originally been a walk-in closet or a pantry, but I’d been in tighter spots. Lifting the landline, I dialed Jablonsky’s office number and waited. Silently cheering when he answered, saving me from having to leave a rather awkward voicemail message, I filled him in on the last twenty-four hours. He’d already been read in by the DEA and had started tracking leads on his own.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“I’m starting to have my doubts. Decker’s been under nine months and has nothing to show for it. Why hasn’t the op been scrapped? And how is it that they still have active warrants to surveil the commune?”
“Bodies are turning up. The obvious motive is drug trafficking, and you ought to keep in mind that the dead drug mules were all part of Wilde’s following at one point or another. He’s the common thread, or that church is.”
“It isn’t a church. Not really. It’s more like a women’s shelter that has a weekly bake sale.”
“You’ll fit right in,” Mark teased. “What’s next? Cooking classes?”
“No.” I didn’t find his routine amusing. “The next play will be moving out of the cover apartment and onto Wilde’s property.”
“Just make sure you don’t become his property.”
“No shit.” My mind chased after a few possibilities concerning the DEA’s lack of progress and the dead body. “You’ve taught me to never believe in coincidences, so I’m having issues understanding why Vincent Harbring was killed. He looks like the guy that assaulted me, but with a mask, a positive ID is impossible.”
“What about prints? Did he touch anything?”
“Just the bat, and he took it with him.”
Mark’s drawer slammed, and I knew he had a thought. “I’ll see what turns up. In the meantime, keep your head on a swivel. This time, it was a bat in broad daylight; next time, it could be a gun in the dead of night.”
“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”
“Parker, you’re in southern California. You should be sick of sunshine by now.” He exhaled slowly. “Don’t turn into some West Coast hippie.”
“I did drink a green smoothie this morning.”
He groaned. “I’m hanging up now. I’ll let you know what I find.”
After flipping through my notes and rereading the files that I’d pulled concerning the previous victims, the cause of death, and evidence found at the crime scene, I was no closer to a solution than when I started. Wilde was meticulous. He was careful, and above all, he knew how to manipulate everyone and everything around him. That’s how he gained a following and eluded the authorities. Hell, he probably tricked Harbring into the attack and then somehow convinced him to make a delivery to that neighborhood, knowing what would happen. Perhaps he didn’t even orchestrate the hit.
Leaving the cramped office, I went back to the command center. “How many gangs operate within the vicinity?”
“Too many to count.” Eve looked up from the analysis she was conducting. “We’re considering that possibility as motive for the murder. Right now, your focus should be on determining Tim’s connection to Harbring and how they communicated. We’ve run through Harbring’s phone records, and nothing traces back to Tim. E-mail and internet history will take some time, but I’m guessing Tim’s too clever to risk leaving a trail.” She looked pointedly at the clock, as if to remind me of Eckhardt’s earlier warning.
“I’m out of here. I have the burner you provided, so if you discover anything new or valid, let me know.” I went out the door, almost making it to the exit when I was stopped by one of the medics. “Blood draw or piss in a cup?” I asked.
He smiled good-naturedly. “Given the attack yesterday, the assistant director believes that a needle stick can be easily explained if necessary. Is that a problem?”
“I’m not overly fond of needles, but it’s not like I have a choice.” I followed him back to the lab for the mandatory drug testing and asked for a quick check on my shoulder. Thankfully, nothing was broken, just bruised and tender. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
By the time I made it back to the apartment, it was dusk. The streetlamps hadn’t turned on yet, but they would any minute. I had to take a different vehicle to and from HQ since Alice wasn’t supposed to be driving yet, and I parked the nondescript sedan in a public garage several blocks away. Remembering to walk with a limp, I maintained a steady gait, not seeing much foot traffic around town.
Cars drove past or idled at the stoplights, but not many people were hoofing it.
Crossing the street, I could see the high-rise apartment building looming at the end of the block. It was taller than the other buildings with a much more ostentatious architectural design. Even the buildings here screamed out “notice me”. Rolling my eyes at the completely different approach to life, I continued toward home.
Passing an alleyway, I heard something rustling around near the dumpster. I slowed my progress, gripping my purse tightly in one hand. It contained my firearm, but before I could unzip the bag, a raccoon darted out of the trash. I took a deep breath, acknowledging that I was on the brink of paranoia, and continued past the opening. A few steps later, I felt a presence. The sound of footsteps in close proximity urged me to turn around. Just as I began to turn, a masked man grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me against the wall.
He wore the same mask as the man from yesterday, but he was taller. It wasn’t the same guy. Those thoughts delayed my actions, giving him time to stomp down on my ankle. I grunted and kneed him in the balls. Bringing my interlaced fists down on his slumped shoulders, I hoped he’d drop, but he didn’t go completely down. Instead, he crawled backward, recovering from the hit to the groin, and pulled a telescopic baton from his pocket. Extending it with a quick flick of the wrist, he swung, and I dove to the side. This guy wasn’t aiming for my kneecaps. He planned to take me out.
Ducking beneath the next swing, I charged forward, ramming him in the stomach with my shoulder. The advantage for being that close meant his range of movement was limited. I attempted to subdue him with a proper hold, but he knocked me away before I could get my arms around him. He swung again, the steel glancing off my forearm and sending painful tingles through the limb. Son of a bitch.