The Leah Ryan Thrillers Box Set: Three Chiller Thrillers (Repo Chick Blues #1, Finding Chloe #2, Dirty Business #3) (Leah Ryan Thrillers Box Set, Books 1-3)

by Tracy Sharp

  “Held a knife to her throat one night after her shift. He waited for her outside. After that, we always had a bouncer walk her to her car.”

  “The bartender at another club said that she was fired from here because of some guy making a scene.”

  She shook her head. “That wasn’t really why. Shanahan had her fired when she wouldn’t have anything to do with him romantically anymore.”

  “Nice. Do you know if the weirdo kept stalking her after she left here?”

  “She came in for her last paycheck and she looked really nervous. She said he was still following her. The guy wouldn’t let up.”

  I thought of Phil. Could he be the stalker? Is that why he’d asked me to look into her disappearance? “Those creeps never do. Have you seen him around since the last time you saw Chloe?”

  “Oh, sure. He still comes in at least once a night asking for her. I guess she finally lost him and he’s hoping she’ll come back here.”

  “What does he look like?”

  She described a guy who could’ve been anyone. Medium build, five-ten or so. Brown hair. Whoever he was, the fact that he was still looking for her ruled him out as a suspect in her disappearance.

  “Some people need to get a hobby,” she said.

  “You’ve got that right. Did she ever talk about her parents? Where they live? She might’ve gone back to live with them.”

  “Not much. Just that they live somewhere in Saratoga Springs.”

  “Thanks.” I scanned the make-up counter for something to write on and settled on a cocktail napkin she had a drink resting on. There were a couple of pens lying amidst the scattered make-up items on the counter and I borrowed one to write my name and cell number down for her. “Would you let me know if you hear from her?”

  She took the napkin and nodded her head, her silken hair falling softly around her shoulders. She was a stunning woman. “Leah. No problem. I hope you find her.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, I go by Velvet if you need to call me. Please, make it discreet.”

  I nodded. “You got it.”

  “Oh, Leah?”

  I turned back to her. “Yeah?”

  “Watch it as you walk out of here. Shanahan’s driver is sitting at the corner table at the back of the club. He spends his off time here while he waits for Shanahan to call. He doesn’t talk, but he does a hell of a lot of watching. I think he’s Shanahan’s eyes and ears when he’s not here.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “I just don’t think Shanahan would like knowing that you were here asking about Chloe. You know?”

  I nodded. “Gotcha. Thanks, Velvet.”

  As I walked through the bar area I slid a look over to the corner table Velvet had mentioned. Sure enough, there was a man sitting there. He appeared tall and thin, and wore a black suit with a burgundy shirt underneath. He stared at me with dark, dead eyes. I gave him a nod and a smile, then tossed my hair and gave my walk the best bounce and hip-sway I could manage without looking silly.

  I hoped I hadn’t made much of an impression on Mr. Creepy.

  The sunshine hurt my eyes when I stepped outside, and as I walked across the street to my Jeep it occurred to me that Chloe wasn’t the only beautiful girl to end up stripping while they wait for their big break. Unfortunately, it seemed the big break very rarely, if ever, came. And sometimes these gorgeous girls vanish, like bright stars suddenly blinking out, leaving nothing except black sky behind them. As if they had never really been there to begin with.

  * * *

  “Who’s the target?” I asked Callahan as he pulled out of the repot depot. The name is really Parker’s Repossession Services, but I like to shorten it. Cal had once been a defense attorney. Now he owned and ran the repot depot. I met him when he came to take my Jeep away the previous summer, which resulted in my losing my job as a construction worker. I had no way of getting to work that morning, so they had gleefully fired me. Callahan hadn’t banked on me finding him and pestering him until he gave me a job.

  Having had my share of experience during my sordid youth as a car thief, I was a natural at repossessing cars.That was a long time ago. Who’d have thought that all that petty crime experience would come in handy for a legitimate career some day?

  Life is a funny thing.

  “It’s our buddy,” he said. “You know the one.”

  “Oh, hell no.” I rolled my eyes and leaned my head back against the headrest. “Please say you’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Seems Mr. Schultz got his truck back, but predictably, he’s three months late on his payments again.”

  “Jesus.”

  Floyd Shultz was a regular target of ours. It was a bizarre thing. He’d be so late on the payments on his 2002 Chevy pick-up that we’d have to come and take the truck from him. He’d somehow miraculously come up with the cash for the back payments and get his truck back. Within a few short months, we’d be repossessing his truck again. You’d think he’d be just as tired of the same old shit as we were. I was starting to believe he really liked it, that it was a game for him, because it was one hell of a job getting that truck away from him. He didn’t make it easy.

  I let out a long sigh as we rounded the curve toward his house; a typical ranch style he wasn’t taking care of. The deck he’d added on a couple of years ago was tilting precariously to one side, though it was questionable whether or not it had ever been level to begin with, and the blue paint on his house was peeling. The truck in question was sitting at the curb in front of the house instead of in the driveway, as if he’d only parked it there for a little while and planned on going somewhere. Cal and I knew better. The bastard was waiting for us.

  Cal backed the tow truck up to the front of the pick-up, but before he could slide the tow lowering mechanism below it, the front door of the house burst open and good old Floyd came barreling toward us, gun in hand.

  “Here we go again,” Cal said, getting out of the tow truck.

  I stepped out of the passenger’s side, slamming the door behind me and leaning against the truck, arms crossed.

  “Goddammit! You two again? When the hell you gonna figure out to leave me the hell alone?” He jabbed the gun in the air in time with each word he said. “Am I gonna have to shoot your asses? Huh? Am I?” His face was beet-red and his eyes held a crazy light as he glared at us. He was having more than a little fun with this.

  This had become routine for us.

  “Floyd. Are you really going to make us go through the same old shit again?” I said to him. “We’ve been through this so many times. Why don’t you just give us the keys and let’s be done with it.”

  “The hell with that! You’re not taking my goddamn truck! So you can just get back into that piece of shit tow and get out of here!”

  Cal looked bored. “Floyd, we all know you’re not going to use that gun. So just give us the keys or we’ll have to tow the truck.”

  “Like hell I won’t use this gun! I’ll shoot out every goddamn tire on that piece of shit!” He waved the gun at the tow truck.

  “Now, Floyd,” Cal said, his voice patient. “If you do that, you’ll go to jail. Do you want to go to jail? Is it worth it?”

  “I said you ain’t taking my truck!”

  I was a little nervous. Floyd had waved his gun at us many times before but you never knew if all those times before had only been practice. He obviously had a lot of pent-up aggression. Although it wasn’t exactly pent up at the moment. It looked as if he’d saved it all for us.

  “Okay,” Cal said. “Have it your way, Floyd.”

  We both climbed back into the tow. Cal backed it up and slid the tow lowering mechanism beneath the pick-up and clamped the pincher-like arms around the front tires. All the while, Floyd was shrieking at the top of his lungs.

  We heard two loud cracks, and I thought my eardrums had burst. Cal froze. We both looked at Floyd, who was cackling, a wide smile on his face and maniacal glee in his eyes. He’d shot out the tires o
n the side of the pick-up facing him.

  “Holy shit. He actually shot the tires out,” Cal breathed, incredulous.

  We stared at Floyd, who was doing a kind of jig on the sidewalk, his belly bobbing up and down. “You know, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  Cal stuck his head out the window. “Floyd, are you out of your friggin’ mind?”

  “I told you! You ain’t taking my goddamn truck! Goddamn it!” He waved the gun at us.

  This time we both ducked down a little.

  We did end up taking his goddamned truck. And since it was his own tires he’d shot out, we decided not to call the cops and press charges against him. We did warn him that next time we’d haul his ass to jail ourselves.

  He sat on his front steps, shaking his head, still giggling, like he’d just had the best time of his life. “All right. You’re good people. I know you gotta take the truck. Don’t mean I gotta like it.”

  “Right.” Cal stood in front of him, watching him as if he were waiting for him to go off again. “Just remember, next time you’re going to the klink. Understand?”

  Floyd nodded his huge, round head. “I know. Go on now, before I change my mind.”

  Cal and I looked at each other. It seemed that good old Floyd had taken leave of his faculties awhile ago, and it didn’t seem as if they’d be coming back soon. We’d have to be extra careful with him in the future.

  We towed the pick-up mostly in silence. The tension of the previous week weighed heavily on us both. I thought we’d said everything there was to say on the matter of Callahan moving in. Or not moving in. But he was brooding again. And other than backing down and letting him move into my house, which wasn’t going to happen, I didn’t know how to make it better. So for the moment I chose to ride out the awkward silences and hope that things smoothed themselves out.

  It seemed that Callahan had other plans.

  “So, no luck on finding Chloe?” His voice held a slight edge.

  Choosing my words carefully, I said, “I’m getting there. I just started. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” I looked at his face, trying not to wince at the hardness of it. At that moment he seemed so rigid, so immovable. “I’m going to look for her parents tonight. You up for it?” My voice was a little too light. It sounded weak to my own ears, like a plea, and I hated myself for it.

  He was silent for a long time, and I knew that if he hadn’t been driving right then, he’d be hanging his head.

  “No.” He let the word hang in the air between us for a moment. “Leah, I’m really not up for it. I can’t do this again.”

  Trying to unclench my stomach, I lifted my chin a little, processing what he was telling me. “Okay. Do what again?”

  He turned his face to me, his eyes full of emotion. “I can’t watch you put yourself in so much danger.” He shook his head a little. “Leah, the chances you take ... you scare the hell out of me.”

  “I’m just asking a few questions.”

  “Oh, no. No you’re not. You’re already in this one. I can see it in you. You won’t let go until you find her, whether she’s dead or alive.”

  Silently I stared out the windshield We pulled into the repot depot.

  “Is this because I said you couldn’t move in with me?”

  “That’s part of it. I don’t see us moving forward.”

  “Why do people always have to be moving forward? Why can’t they ever just be happy with where they’re at?”

  “It’s not enough, Leah. And I love you too much to watch you do this.”

  On a gut level I knew what he was telling me. Intellectually I was confused. It didn’t make sense. To me, Cal not moving in was a separate issue. I couldn’t understand what it had to do with not wanting to get involved in helping me find Chloe. Maybe I just didn’t want to hear what he was telling me.

  Some part of me got it. I wasn’t his, and he couldn’t afford to care about me so much in case I got into real trouble. Something like that, anyway.

  Sitting straight up, I squared my shoulders. “So this is it, then? Are you firing me, too?”

  “No, I’m not firing you. I think you should work with Will for awhile.”

  “I can work alone. I’ll call for back-up if I need it.” With that I got out of the tow truck and was careful not to slam the door, because slamming it was exactly what I wanted to do.

  I walked to my Jeep, climbed in and drove away without looking back.

  I didn’t cry. My throat felt tight but I didn’t let a single tear spill onto my cheeks. Callahan only wanted me on his terms. Those were conditions I couldn’t live under. We both knew the deal when we started. So why should I give a damn that he was walking away now? I didn’t. It would just take me a day or two to realize it.

  I stopped at a convenience store, bought a diet root beer and blinked my eyes several times as I looked through the phone book.

  There were two Nolans listed in Saratoga Springs. The first listed Michael and Beverly Nolan, and next listed Martin Nolan. Something niggled at the back of my mind. Wait a minute. Michael Nolan. The city Alderman? I stared off into space, searching my memory. I was almost certain that Michael Nolan was the name of the Alderman who had been accused of some shady dealing. I couldn’t remember what, there was so much white-collar crime out there. It was on the news constantly. I made a mental note to check up on that.

  He probably would live in Saratoga. I scribbled down both addresses and decided that although it was more polite to call first, just showing up might be the better way to go. It’s easier to hang up on somebody than to slam the door in their face. That was debatable. However, I was sticking with that track for the moment. I had to move.

  I climbed back into the Jeep and headed to Saratoga, taking I-87 and blasting my Joan Jett CD. Yeah. Ms. Jett always made me feel better. That throaty, gritty voice screaming over her wailing guitar riffs somehow made me feel like it would all be okay, if I just kept on keeping on.

  It was a gorgeous spring evening—sixty-two degrees—and the sunshine giving everything a warm glow. I had the top down off the Jeep and reveled in the feel of the wind blowing my hair around my head. I’d let my hair grow in the last year, and with my natural waves and the inky black color of it, I looked like something wild and supernatural in my rearview mirror. I’d have to remember to run a brush through it before I ventured up to anybody’s door. I had a spare travel brush somewhere in my console, amidst a messy pile of CDs. I really should invest in a CD rack for the Jeep. That way the covers wouldn’t get all bashed in and cracked.

  When I got into Saratoga I knew it wouldn’t take me long to find either house. Both were on the lake, only about a half-mile apart from one another. I was guessing these two Nolans were related.

  The first house I found looked to be pretty new, built within the last few years, and obnoxiously large. It was somewhat gaudy because it looked as if it really didn’t know what kind of house it wanted to be, kind of a mishmash of various designs. The colors were pastel; pale greens, blues and pinks. It was obvious a woman had chosen them.

  At the risk of seeming rude, I parked the Jeep in their driveway, marveling at the size of the house. It seemed there wasn’t much property, though. The yard was rather small for such a monster of a home. Well, less lawn upkeep, I thought.

  Feeling as if I were being watched, I looked up at the bay window. It was then that I realized I’d forgotten to run a brush through the tangles in my hair, and was wearing black jeans and a black leather blazer over a black T-shirt. I just happen to like black. My worn, black cowboy boots cracked on the wood of the enormous, wrap-around deck as I made my way to the front door, wondering if anyone would answer at all.

  I rang the doorbell and waited for somebody to answer, studying my reflection in the window of the screen door. I looked pale. When I’d worked construction my skin had always been a golden brown, but my skin hadn’t seen much of the sun since then. My brown eyes looked larger than usual. I’d rimmed them with some espresso
eyeliner that morning. Other than that I wore no make-up. I looked like some homeless drug addict who had lost her way. Either that or a rock star coming off one hell of a binge.

  It surprised me when I heard heels clicking smartly on what I guessed was a hardwood floor. The door opened and a blonde woman with perfectly coiffed hair stood before me. Her make-up had been applied with precision, and she wore an expensive designer white pencil skirt and lavender blouse. Her disdain was apparent, and she turned her nose up at me.

  “May I help you?” Her voice held a good dose of doubt.

  “Mrs. Nolan?”

  Her left eyebrow lifted a little. “Yes?”

  “Are you related to Chloe Nolan? I’m an old friend and I’ve lost track of her.”

  “You’re a friend of Chloe’s?” She paused, looked me up and down, then added, “Yes, of course you are.” As if that fact shouldn’t have surprised her in the least.

  My heart picked up speed. “You are a relation, then?”

  “She’s my husband’s sister.”

  Not sister-in-law. Her husband’s sister.

  “Do you have any idea of where she might be?”

  “No. I don’t. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  I reached out and stopped her from closing the door in my face. “I’m sorry,” I said, smiling as sweetly as I could. “Is your husband here?”

  She sighed, as if I was really getting on her last nerve. “No.”

  “Is there a better time I can reach him?”

  “No, there isn’t. He’s dead.”

  With that she closed the door, and this time I didn’t stop her.

  Chapter Three

  Well, I wasn’t having any luck charming people yet. Good thing the day wasn’t over. I was curious about what had happened to Chloe’s brother. I figured that when I found the other Nolan I might have better luck getting information. I decided a change of appearance might help my cause just a little.

  The other Nolan residence wasn’t far from the last, just as I’d thought. I parked on the street this time, not wanting to draw attention to myself as I tried to make myself look more appealing. I found my mini brush in the console, buried beneath several battered CD cases, and quickly brushed my hair. I spotted a purple hair band wrapped around the emergency brake. Perfect. I pulled my hair back and weaved it into a passable French braid. Next I took off the leather blazer and searched the back seat for an appropriate substitute.