Next to it is the type of pad that wins architectural awards. All glass, seamless, with a driveaway of pristine golden-colored bricks.
“Even the rich have their paupers, I guess,” Finn says.
“Isn’t that the truth.” There’s no car in the driveway. But suffice to say, I’m not just waltzing up the front door. Me and her aren’t exactly pals after I told Javy about her antics. “Go up and knock on the door to see if she’s home.”
“And if she is?”
“You’re the charmer, you’ll figure it out.” I nudge him out into the street.
He gives me a look like come on, but does as he’s told, walking up the pristine red brick pathway carving through an immaculate lawn. From my vantage point, I see him take hold of the big brass knocker and slam it against the wood.
Then door swings open, already unlocked.
And I hear Finn call into the foyer, “Hello?” Then he says, “Oh shit.”
Twenty-Three
I sprint across the street to join Finn. He stays on the stairs, not going inside.
“We gotta get out of here, Tess.”
I crane my neck inside the house. There’s a dead body in the foyer. Male, probably about thirty-five to forty. There’s no smell, so it’s probably recent.
Killer could still even be inside.
“We came this far.” My cop instincts kick in. “Draw your weapon.”
He looks hesitant to wield the gun after this morning’s events in the garage, but does as he’s told.
I keep the shotgun against my chest as I enter the house. I sweep the entrance and living room, then make my way through the kitchen. The expansive open floor plan and polished granite countertops yield no clues or murderers.
I head back to the foyer, where Finn is staring at the body.
There’s another room off to the side.
I nudge it open with the shotgun.
Home office. No one inside.
I return to the foyer.
“Hey, head in the game Casanova.” I snap my fingers. “You asked for this.”
“I just didn’t expect it.”
“It’s never what you expect.” I grab a dishtowel from the kitchen, then come back and use it to pull out the victim’s wallet. I find his ID. Partner at Carrie Zane’s firm according to his business card.
“Martin Carabot,” I say before returning the wallet to his back pocket. I touch the guy’s neck with the back of my hand to check his temp. He’s still warm. Dead a couple hours at most. A memory surges through my mind, and I stumble away.
Martin’s running through the kitchen.
Carter Price is running after him. Top button still undone. Ravenous with hunger.
The memory ends before Martin dies.
I breathe heavily as reality settles in around me, holding back the urge to throw up. The Soulwalking isn’t mixing well with the onslaught of returned memories that I just got back.
“You okay?” Finn asks.
I steady myself against the wall and say, “Yeah, I’ll survive.”
“What’d you just see, Tess?”
“Carter killed him.”
Finn winces like I just poked him in the eye with a screwdriver. “Is he still here?”
“Body’s been here a couple hours,” I say. “Should be fine. Let’s look around.”
Finn says, “I’ll head upstairs.”
I think he just wants to get away from the body. “Sure, suit yourself.”
His footsteps echo off the tall ceiling as he climbs the staircase and disappears onto the second floor.
I take a second look at Martin. He’s pale. Skin drawn around his cheekbones.
He’s been drained.
Rarely happens these days. But when a mean vampire gets hungry enough…
I lean over and examine his neck closer. Sure enough, there are two little fang marks near his jugular.
Rillo is problem enough, but his loyal lapdog Carter might be a bigger issue. Without my memories, I didn’t know just how lucky I’d gotten this morning to best him.
One in a thousand given the circumstances, at best.
Carter is an ornery, slimy bastard with zero remorse.
I rise to inspect the rest of the living room, which is adjacent to the foyer.
There’s not much else of note here. An expensive leather sofa, a few business magazines aimed at the rich and affluent, and a plain black rug. Martin’s corpse is about the only thing out of place.
No struggle.
No fight.
Not surprising. With the taste of Vitalysm supercharging Carter’s abilities, he could devour a man without much resistance.
I refocus my priorities on why we came here: finding Javy. The body is a minor detour. While I’m curious as to the why, it’s of far less concern than tracking Javy Down. I head to the office near the stairs. Like the rest of the house, everything is neat to a sterile fault, bearing more resemblance to a showroom than an actual living space.
The computer is on when I sit down. I nudge the mouse with the shotgun and the screen jumps back to life.
Already logged in.
No need for a password.
Jackpot.
The department backdoor login, however, isn’t in plain sight on the desktop. I hunt through some of the folders and files, but it’s just depositions, legal forms, and billing invoices.
“Come on.” After a few more fruitless minutes, however, reality sets in. I’m getting nowhere.
I stand up and pace around the office. There’s a row of cabinets near the back window. I open one up and thumb through the files, finding what one would expect in a lawyer’s office: legal documents. The others yield similar results.
Finding a login here would be like finding a needle in a needle stack.
It could be anywhere amongst the thousands of pieces of paper. Assuming that Carrie even has it written down, instead of memorized.
There’s a tacky stuffed swordfish adorning the wall. The bottom of it’s torn up. It clashes with the general modern aesthetic of the furniture.
I give it the finger and stick my tongue out.
That’s when I hear a “fuck!” from Finn, followed by an ear-piercing shriek. The sequence is capped by the revolver’s booming report.
“Finn?” I race out of the office and take the stairs two at a time. There are three rooms on the second floor.
“It’s okay, I’m not trying to hurt you,” I hear Finn say. His voice is coming from the third floor.
I clear the final set of stairs and find myself in a sprawling master bedroom that takes up the entire floor.
Finn is near the king-sized bed. Carrie Zane, mascara streaked and hair tousled, is on the other side, clutching the navy blue sheets.
“T-tess?” Her eyes go wide. “Is this because I screwed with Javy after the break up? I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Her pleas devolve into blubbering unbefitting of her reputation as a take-no-prisoners defense attorney.
Then again, it’s when the chips are down that we all find out who we really are.
And most people discover it doesn’t align with whatever story they told themselves.
I shoot Finn a what the fuck glance.
He says with a sheepish shrug, “She popped up out of nowhere from beneath the bed and scared the shit out of me. I shot the fucking wall by accident.”
I rub my forehead and close my eyes. “Let me get this straight.”
“Please, please don’t kill me.” Carrie’s whining interrupts the verbal dress-down I’m about to give my Navigator—and only current ally. “I’ll do anything.”
“Relax,” I say. Then, I think better of reassuring her further—at least right away. “We just need one thing.”
“Combination to the safe is 41-56-22. There’s cash. Some of its dirty.” She devolves into a fit of tears. “Drug money. From murderers.”
“Wonderful,” I say. “Finn, go get some supplies.”
Consider it a donation to the town’s de
fense fund. We don’t need it right now, but you never know when a bunch of cash could come in handy. An unexpected win, but I’ll take the victories where I can get them.
“It’s behind the painting in the bathroom,” she calls, eager to be as helpful as possible.
I sit down on the bed and cross my legs. “So, it’s been a minute or two.”
“I’m so sorry about treating Javy like that. He’s a good man.”
“He is,” I say. “And you’re an asshole.”
I let that simmer a bit. She rests her chin on the bed like a dog who’s done something wrong.
“I see Carter beat me here.” I tap the shotgun’s stock against my knee. “Your friend’s been dead a couple hours at least.”
“I passed out.” Her lip quivers. “I’ve been hiding under the bed the whole time.”
“And he didn’t find you?”
“I have a little panic nook in case anyone breaks in.” Carrie sniffles. “I work for some bad people.”
“I didn’t notice.”
From the bathroom, Finn calls, “Got a lot of cash in here, Tess.”
“Take it all.” I relish the pained expression on her face. But it’s time to wrap this up. “Why did Carter come here?”
“He was looking for Javy. That’s what he was yelling at Martin downstairs.”
“And what, he thought you two might have rekindled the fire?” Seems like a stretch.
“He’s not himself, Tess.” Carrie clutches the blanket tight, like she’s afraid he might come back. “I heard him drain Martin…alive.”
“Pretty brutal way to go.” I don’t ask her why she didn’t call the cops. Carrie knows better than anyone how the sausage in this town is made.
“It was horrible.”
“Funny thing. Javy went missing within the past hour or two. Any idea why that might be?”
Carrie opens her mouth, then shuts it, slumping her shoulders like she’s fearful of what I might do. “I don’t know.”
I slide the shotgun off my knee. “And I really don’t have time for games.”
This gets the wheels turning ASAP. “I, um, I—well, I didn’t take the breakup too well.”
“And here I thought you handled it with class.”
She glares at me through teary eyes. “I love him.”
“Spare me the closing courtroom argument,” I say. “What could Carter have found here?” Then I add, “Besides departmental backdoor access. I checked for that.”
“He said something about Javy’s phone being off. Untraceable.”
“Don’t make me ask the question again.” My gaze narrows until my eyes are squinted into the most menacing glare I can muster.
She almost wilts into the floor. “I might have put a tracker in his wallet.”
“What?”
She says defensively, “I thought he was cheating on me, so I had it sewn into the inner pocket.”
“You thought Javy Diaz was cheating on you.”
“Every woman looks at him. He’s hot.”
“What are you, fourteen?” I should be thanking her. Her psychotic reasoning means I might be able to track him down. But it takes every fiber of my self-control not to clock her square in the jaw. “Just show me where the tracker is.”
“There’s a burner phone with the app in the, uh—in the swordfish’s tail.”
That explains the horrendous office decoration. “All right, get up.”
“I told you what you wanted!”
“For a lawyer, you’re a terrible negotiator,” I say. “I was never going to shoot you.”
“But—but the gun.”
“You know what your problem is, Carrie?” I turn around and shake my head at her. “You think everyone’s as big of a piece of shit as you are.” I point to the stairs. “We’re going to get that phone.”
“Maybe I should call the cops instead.” Her backbone is magically regrowing. “Since you’re not going to hurt me.”
“I said I wouldn’t shoot you. But I have nothing against punching you in the face.”
Her back slumps a bit, the fight going out of her quick.
Finn emerges from the bathroom with stacks of cash. “I need something to put this in.”
“I’m sure Carrie has a nice bag for you. Right?” I flash a big fake smile.
She shuffles across the room, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in her designer dress. Then she returns with a Prada bag.
“Oh, always wanted these,” I say as Finn dumps the cash in. “But, you know, government salary and all.” After he finishes up, I head for the door. “Let’s go downstairs.”
We trek down the stairs, into the office.
The tacky stuffed fish’s eye stares at me as I enter.
“Show us where the goods are.”
Carrie runs her fingers along the fish’s gut, stopping at the torn part. “It’s…”
She bites her lip, clearly nervous about the threat of my fist colliding with her cheek.
But I know what her words are going to be. It’s gone.
A bad feeling settles in my gut. Because this all confirms that he’s been taken.
Probably by Carter.
So I say, “You have a backup somewhere?”
“No.”
“I can change my mind about that gun if you’re full of shit.”
“Get caught tracking my ex-boyfriend on my company phone?” Carrie looks far more horrified about that scenario than she did about doing actual said creepy tracking.
My urge to punch her is returning, since her tracking led Rillo and Carter straight to Javy.
That means we’re back to the original plan.
“All right, time to login to the department’s server, then.” Javy might have had his phone off, but he had to turn it on to send that text. Maybe it’s still on.
Carrie dutifully does as she’s told. She brings up the command prompt and types in a string of letters.
The cursor blinks on the black and green interface for a moment, then Ragnarok PD’s logo pops up on screen.
She navigates to the “personnel” section and scrolls to Javy Diaz’s name.
“Your file is here, too,” she says, trying to bait me.
“I already know the tale.” The official termination papers listed “Unwarranted surveillance on Dominic Rillo” as the cause of my firing. They were right about the surveillance part: in the days following the incident in the Groves, Javy and I staked his ass out.
I’d heavily dispute the unwarranted part. His ass should have been at the top of the most wanted list.
But he was a choir boy while we watched. So all it did was give Captain Reynolds the slightest cause for booting my ass out the department door. Javy got to stay. They didn’t give a fuck about what he was watching. They just assumed they’d stay one step ahead of him.
Thus far, Rillo, Reynolds, and Carter have been right.
But I’m about to flip the script. Because I can see the dot blinking on screen for Javy’s phone.
“Zoom out.”
“The software’s buggy,” Carrie says.
“Give me that.” I take hold of the mouse and refresh twice. Then the zoom function works. It’s funny how these little muscle memory quirks of the job are embedded deep within us—perhaps forever.
I zoom out enough to get the lay of the land.
Javy’s in a sparsely populated area. Maybe half a mile from the Rok River—and thus, the dam.
“That’s the middle of nowhere,” Carrie says. “What’s he doing out there?”
“I know where he is.”
“Where?”
I smirk and close the window. “Yeah, like I’m gonna tell you.” I jerk my thumb toward Finn, who’s still carrying the handbag full of cash. “That’s our cue to leave.”
We get halfway across the living room when I stop. “I do need one more thing.”
“I’m beginning to get tired of this.” There’s that backbone regrowing again.
“That makes two of
us,” I say. “Your car keys.”
“No.”
“I’ll return it in one piece,” I say.
“It’s the law firm’s property.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t want to find out what’s behind door number two.”
She bites her lip, then stomps into the kitchen. A drawer rattles violently as she yanks it out.
The keys come hurtling at me without warning. I snatch them out of midair. “You should try out for the Yankees with an arm like that.”
Carrie stalks after us as we head for the garage. “You’re going to hear about this, Tess.”
I don’t turn around. “Then you’d better come with both barrels.”
“You’re done, Tess.”
I flip her the bird, same as I did her stupid swordfish. “Just make sure the garage door is open.”
I have bigger concerns. Because Javy’s phone is out at Dom’s lake house.
That means we’re headed straight into the belly of the beast.
I’m about to get inside her car—Mercedes S-Class, a real nice ride—when my phone buzzes.
I slide into the driver’s seat and check the number.
Javy.
“Hello?” The car’s engine purrs to life.
“Hello, Tess,” Dom Rillo’s calm voice says, “It’s time we had another chat.”
“About?”
“Whether your friend Detective Diaz here survives the next five minutes.”
Twenty-Four
I pull the Benz out of the garage and start driving toward the lake.
Rillo’s voice crackles over my water-warped phone’s speaker. “Did you hear me, Tess?”
“Loud and clear.” I share a glance with Finn, who doesn’t look overly optimistic about how this will end. That makes two of us. But I maintain a stoic expression, and say, “Put Javy on the phone.”
“A little early to be asking favors, no?”
“I’m not asking,” I say. “Put him on the fucking line.”
“Need I remind you about the dam?”
“And I don’t need to remind you about what I have.” I turn down another idyllic tree-lined street. “I’ll send everything I have straight to the Feds. Then when you flood the town, they can pick your fleeing ass up on the highway out of here.”
Drop Dead (Tess Skye Book 1) Page 12