Never Girl

by Ana Valen

“No. They didn’t want a medical discharge following him around. Those can haunt soldiers, especially when it comes to employment. The Army avoided that because they respected him.”

  “Apparently a lot—since they turned a blind eye to Harlan slaughtering people.”

  “He also saved people. You know those kills I told you about? He obtained most of them while repelling ambushes. He saved our platoon once, when we were in a gulley, pinned down from opposite hillsides. The enemy was about to cut us to pieces, but Harlan made quick work of them. Later on, I found out that he was a California boy. That’s when I made my acquaintance.”

  “And now you’re repaying him by providing police reports?”

  Martinez stayed quiet.

  “Again,” she continued, “I only want to know what happened.”

  “I don’t know. But I can tell you who he worked for.”

  “Who?”

  Martinez took a moment. “Kovalenko.”

  “Alexander Kovalenko? The Ukrainian mob boss?”

  “That’s right. And given how Kovalenko operates, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had Harlan carrying out murders. Either way, Kovalenko is the key. Focus on him, and you’ll find out what happened.”

  “Thanks. Because considering the Jessie Jacobson murder, all signs point towards your friend, which I don’t think is the case.”

  “I hope not. Either way, let me know what you find out.”

  “You got it.”

  Chapter 37

  Claire drove her Acura through Santa Monica. She headed south towards the pier, and she made good time since the traffic was light. That would change with the evening rush hour approaching. For now, she cruised without delay.

  She parked along the shorefront, shut off the engine, and took a remorseful breath. Why couldn’t James play along? Why couldn’t he talk to the police and explain her history? Because he wouldn’t, she would have to force his hand.

  She opened the glovebox and pulled a burner phone, one loaded with voice changing software. She slipped the phone into her jacket pocket, climbed out, and closed the door.

  While starting towards the pier, she eyed the people walking around. Everyone enjoyed the Southern California sunshine without a care in the world. If only she were so lucky. If only Jessie hadn’t ruined her life. But he did. And like she told James, there was no recovering from this. But she left something out—her plan to start over. She would begin a new life in a new city. But first, she needed to end this life. That included tying up any loose ends and resolving any differences. That was the basis of her new plan, one she hastily put together when Raven didn’t buy the robbery angle.

  She eased onto the pier and walked towards the far end. With the crowd thinned out, she approached the railing and pulled her burner. She activated the device, along with the voice changing software. She had tested the voice options earlier, and she settled for a middle-aged male. That voice resembled the person she aimed to imitate. She also pulled her personal cellphone, brought up Raven’s number, and inputted the number into the burner. She put away her personal phone and hit the call option on the burner.

  “Detective Raven,” Raven answered.

  “Detective,” she said, her male voice echoing through the line, “I need to tell you something.”

  “Who is this?”

  “I would rather not say.”

  “Then I’ll assume you’re a telemarketer. Bye.”

  “This is about Harlan Nichols.”

  A pause.

  “How do you know him?” Raven asked.

  “Because we did the same work together.”

  “You were in the Army?”

  Claire narrowed her eyes. Harlan was in the Army? That actually made sense. It could account for his training and his condition.

  “That’s right,” Claire answered.

  “What unit were you in?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  “Because you’re full of shit?”

  “No. Because I’m not giving away anything that can narrow me down.”

  “Fine. Then answer something about Harlan. What was his military specialty?”

  “Look, you can waste time by asking these questions, or I can explain the Smith and Wesson M&P 40 you found in his apartment.”

  Another pause.

  “I’m listening,” Raven said.

  “Like I said, I worked with Harlan. But not only in the military. We also worked together on the outside. Can I assume you know what that means?”

  “I have a pretty good idea, based on what we found in his apartment.”

  “I’ll just say it. We both worked for the mob boss Alexander Kovalenko. In fact, I originally introduced Harlan to Kovalenko. But while Harlan carried out contract killings, I only supplied weapons.”

  “Nice to know. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because Harlan was double-crossed.”

  “By Kovalenko?”

  “No.”

  “Then by who?”

  Claire took a breath. “James Reed.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. James was involved in that shit between Jessie, Susan, and Claire. I’m not sure how, but I know they were using Harlan for various ends. I wanted to say something to Kovalenko, but in my line of work, you keep your mouth shut. Then people starting getting killed.”

  “I know about the deaths. Where does James fit in?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. But I know that James killed Harlan.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because I supplied James with the gun.”

  Another paused.

  “Which gun?” Raven asked.

  “Beretta M9. I gave him that gun a few days ago. Then earlier today, he called me in a panic. When I arrived at his place, I asked him what happened. He confessed to killing Harlan. He also asked for my help in disappearing. But fuck him. What he did crossed the line.”

  “Why not see Kovalenko about this? I’m sure he can sort everything out.”

  “I can’t do that. I supplied these guns without Kovalenko’s knowledge.”

  “And Kovalenko will retaliate if he finds out?”

  “Yes. That’s why I’m telling you. And I’ll tell you something else. When I was at James’ place, I asked about the Beretta. He still has the weapon. It’s hidden inside his home.”

  “Where?”

  “His bathroom. Specifically, inside the cabinet underneath the sink.”

  “Alright. We’ll check it out. But if it’s there, you’ll have to testify to this.”

  “No chance in hell.”

  Raven huffed out air. “Nobody will believe that I got the gun on an anonymous tip.”

  “From what I hear, you’re quite creative. Make something up.”

  Claire ended the call.

  She leaned forward, rested her arms on the railing, and looked across the ocean. The call went well. Raven and Adams would certainly visit James, and when they found the gun, they would take him in for questioning. Under the pressure, James would crack and say what she wanted—her story and how this led to her actions.

  She nodded. Everything was on track.

  She leaned up and tossed the burner over the railing. The phone sailed downward before plopping into the drink. With that, she turned and started walking.

  Chapter 38

  Raven leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

  “What was that?” Adams asked.

  She looked over. “What?”

  “Your phone call. I heard something about Harlan and Kovalenko and guns.”

  Her first instinct was to make up a story. Then she recalled the fallout of her previous deceits. She turned to him and explained the conversation. This included the caller, what they relayed, and why.

  “Holy shit,” Adams responded.

  Raven smirked. “Your increased usage of foul language is alarming. It’s also encouraging. Maybe you’re human after all.”

  Adams shook his head. “Back to
the call. What should we do about it?”

  “Not sure. Part of me wants to visit James and check out that cabinet. Another part of me wants to forget this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this whole time, we’ve been getting our strings pulled. That mysterious phone call might be more of the same.”

  “You mean more of Claire’s scheming?”

  “Exactly.”

  He sniffed. “I have to admit, I underestimated her. But if she is behind everything, how did she pull it off? I mean, that Harlan setup was something else.”

  “Agreed. But don’t forget. Her accident was five years ago. That gives her plenty of time to develop a scheme.”

  “True. But how does James fit into it?”

  “I’m not sure. But there’s a way to find out.”

  “Keep playing her games?”

  “Exactly.”

  He leaned back. “I’m not keen on that. But I’m not opposed to this either. Reason being, there’s a difference this time around. We’re onto her. We’ll know what to look for.”

  “Good point. So are we heading over to James’ place?”

  “Yeah. Let’s roll.”

  They stood, grabbed their jackets, and slipped them on while heading for the exit.

  ***

  “So,” Raven told Adams, as they drove towards Santa Monica, “how should we play this?”

  “Good cop, bad cop?”

  “I meant the gun. If we find it, how will we justify coming across it?”

  Adams rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure. It’ll sound flimsy saying that we acted on an anonymous tip.” He lowered his hand. “Let’s try a thought experiment. Pretend you never got that call. How might you retrieve the gun?”

  She considered this. “I’ll ask James to use his restroom. While I’m there, I’ll notice the cabinet cracked open. I’ll also notice what looks like a gun inside. After opening the cabinet, bam. There it is.”

  Adams stayed quiet.

  “What?” she asked. “You don’t think that’s good?”

  “It would work with most officers. But not with you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have a reputation of bending the truth.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Why do you think the L.T. put us together?”

  She smirked. “Well, I’ll be Goddamned.”

  “Stop speaking blasphemies.”

  “Hmm. I’ll bet that’s another reason why the L.T. put us together.”

  “Probably. But my point still stands. The story won’t fly coming from you. That’s why I’m going to pitch it.”

  She looked over, but only for a second before refocusing on the road. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. And you know why. If I mention this, people will believe it.”

  “I know. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Because these actions are immoral?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Adams pumped his fist. “My reverse psychology worked. Those actions are immoral. I simply wanted you to admit that.”

  She again looked over. “You were messing with me the whole time?”

  “Yes. And by the way, you’re going into that bathroom. Not me. I have a reputation to uphold.”

  She faced forward. “You asshole. You’re worse than Claire Jacobson.”

  “Given what she’s pulled off, that’s a compliment.”

  Five minutes later, they arrived at James’ place. Raven parked along the street and shut off the engine. She and Adams disembarked, opened the back seats, and grabbed their suit jackets. They slipped them on while starting up the driveway.

  At the front door, Raven hit the chime. Not long after, the door unlocked and opened, but not by much.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” James said, speaking from behind the narrow opening.

  “Mr. Reed,” Adams responded, “we have some questions related to a recent homicide. It’s imperative that we ask them.”

  “If you want to communicate with me, do so through my lawyer.”

  “Me. Reed,” Adams continued, “we have reason to believe that you were involved in this homicide. Don’t you want an opportunity to clear your name? That will take you off our radar.”

  James looked away and scowled. A moment later, he refocused. “Fine. Ask your questions. But I’m only answering what I feel comfortable with.”

  “No problem,” Adams said. “Can we do this inside?”

  “Yeah.”

  James opened the door and stepped aside. Adams entered and Raven followed. As she stepped into the home, James gave her a look. She paid this no mind.

  James closed the door and started for the living room. She and Adams trailed right behind. James sat on the loveseat, while she and Adams took the long couch.

  “So,” James started, “what do you want to know?”

  “You were friends with Jessie Jacobson, correct?” Adams asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Close friends?”

  “Very.”

  “And were you aware that someone killed him?”

  “Of course.”

  Adams pulled a pen and notepad. “Where were you on the night of his murder?”

  The questions went on for minutes, all of them softballs. That was by design. The questions would lull James into a sense complacency. Before long, the plan started working. James was answering without thought, all while casually leaning back.

  “I’m sorry,” Raven interrupted. “James, do you mind if I use your restroom?”

  “That’s fine.” He gestured with his head. “It’s down the hallway and to your left.”

  “Thanks.”

  She rose and headed off. While leaving, Adams kept peppering James with mundane questions.

  She entered the bathroom, closed the door, and turned the lock. After scanning the bathroom, she immediately spotted the cabinet. She approached the cabinet, knelt, and eased open the door. There it was—a Beretta M9. She left the door open a few inches, sat on the toilet, and observed the opening. The gun wasn’t visible.

  She again knelt and opened the door. She then pulled her cellphone and used it to slide the gun closer. She again partly closed the door, sat on the toilet, and observed the cabinet. The gun was visible. There. Now she could testify to seeing it while seated on the John. To bolster her testimony, she activated her phone’s camera and snapped a photo of the gun. That was that.

  She stood, slipped her cellphone into her jacket pocket, and unlocked the bathroom door. After walking back to the living room, she stopped before James.

  “James Reed,” she announced, moving her hand to her Glock, “stand up with your hands raised.”

  “What?” James asked, the color draining from his face.

  Adams immediately rose and drew his .45. “Raven, what’s going on?”

  “There’s a pistol in the bathroom cabinet.” She likewise drew her weapon. “James Reed, please stand up.”

  “What the fuck is this?” James shot back. He looked to Adams. “She planted that!”

  “Mr. Reed,” Adams responded, “we’ll get this sorted out. For now, please comply with our instructions.”

  “She planted that!”

  “Mr. Reed!” Adams shouted.

  Raven arched her brow. She didn’t think Adams had that in him.

  “This is our final request for compliance,” Adams continued. “After that, we will use force.”

  “Okay,” James quivered. “Jesus Christ, okay.” He stood and lifted his hands.

  “Turn around,” Adams said.

  James did so.

  “Raven,” Adams continued, “you got him?”

  She lifted her pistol. “Yeah. I got him.”

  Adams holstered his .45, grabbed James’ shoulder, and used his free hand to pull his cuffs. “Hands behind your back.”

  James lowered hi
s hands.

  Adams slipped on the cuffs and turned to Raven. “Call it in.”

  Chapter 39

  Claire slunk in the seat of her Acura. She had parked the car down the street from James’ house, where she waited for the LAPD to arrive. Fifteen minutes ago, Detective Raven and Detective Adams pulled up, exited their car, and entered the home. They were still inside.

  Claire would give anything to know what was unfolding. But she could easily guess. Raven and Adams were being cordial and accommodating, thus making James feel at ease. Then one of them would casually enter the bathroom and check on her tip about a gun.

  Her attention shifted as police sirens wailed in the distance. With the sounds originating behind her, she looked in the rearview mirror. The sounds grew louder, and seconds later, a patrol car turned onto the streets, lights flashing. A second patrol car appeared right behind.

  As the cars neared, they shut off their lights and sirens. Their roaring engines also wound down. She kept eyeing the vehicles, her brow slightly furrowed. Why were they in a rush? She refocused on the home. Hopefully nothing serious had happened. She needed James alive and well. That way, he could give the investigators her information.

  The patrol cars parked alongside the home. Their doors opened and a uniformed officer disembarked from each. The officers headed up the driveway. While nearing the home, the front door opened. James exited first, his hands cuffed behind him. Detective Adams walked directly behind, his hand on James’ arm. Raven brought up the rear. As expected, James emanated disbelief and anger. Raven and Adams remained stoic.

  The detectives walked James to the uniformed officers. After the hand off, Adams and Raven spoke with the officers. The officers nodded, and one of them walked James back to their patrol car. The officer opened the back door, placed James inside, and closed the door.

  Claire had an unobstructed view of James. His face now glowed with anger. Good. The worse things got for him, the more incentive he had to complete his assignment.

  More police vehicles turned onto the street, none of them with their lights or sirens activated. The vehicles included two unmarked cruisers and a van. Did they arrive to search the home? Probably. Not that this would make a difference. Aside from the pistol, there was nothing of interest inside the home. Or at least nothing that she knew of. Either way, everything was on track. The detectives had the murder weapon, and they had James.