Llewellyn put two and two together. “So while you rose in the ranks as a highly decorated police officer . . .”
Richard finished his thought. “Pops was father of the year.”
“She’s an adult now. Surely she’d understand.”
Richard shook his head. “It’s better this way. I was never cut out to be a dad.” He trailed off and Llewellyn waited. “When Marty died and I realized how easy it was to lose everything, I knew I wasn’t strong enough to stick my neck out there again. This is where I belong. Protecting others. It was what I was born to do.”
“Apparently what M.J. was born to do, too,” Llewellyn pointed out. “She doesn’t have a badge, but her whole life, as I understand it, is to protect and defend.”
Richard chuckled softly. “She got that from her Pops, too. Maybe we all did. But she’s got something else. Something wild. Something untamed. Following rules, taking orders, all of that would drive her bananas.” He offered an absent smile. “She got that from her mom.”
“So you’re really going to tail her?”
Richard’s eyes met his. “What other choice do we have?”
As if in answer, Richard’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and barked, “Yeah?” His face grew stoic and unreadable as he listened. “Thanks for calling,” he said before he disconnected the call. He was out of the chair in an instant.
“What’s wrong?” Llewellyn asked as he hopped up and followed him out of the bar.
“They found a work suit for Slick in a dumpster in Hollywood.”
M.J. was already making her rounds, cruising on her bike along the boulevard. Finally she spotted a familiar face, and she pulled to a stop at the curb. She dismounted and made her way toward a striking African-American transgender woman with long dark hair and model-like features. She was unaware of M.J.’s approach as she lit up a cigarette.
“That shit will kill you, you know.” M.J. smiled.
“Girl, what won’t?” Marilyn shot back. “What have you been up to?”
“Raising hell and kicking ass. The usual.” Marilyn chuckled. “I actually have a problem, and I think you can help me.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said. “You know that.”
They shared a knowing smile. After a decade on the Strip, they were comrades fighting similar wars. “I’m looking for a pimp. Small-time, like bus stations and such. He’s young, and the only thing I know about him is that he has red hair and a prostitute named Tammy. Heard of them?”
Marilyn thought it over. “How old?”
“She’s underage. Not sure about him.”
She pursed her lips. “Not familiar with the babies. But red hair does ring a bell. Like a carrot?”
M.J. nodded.
“Hutch was saying something about a kid owing Donny a lot of money. He was tasked to go find him. That was a defining characteristic. I can call him if you want.”
M.J. shook her head and turned toward her bike. “I’ll go straight to the source.”
Ten minutes later she was at the back entrance of a seedy building south of Santa Monica Boulevard. She knocked twice and a peep window opened. “What’s the code?”
“Open the door before I kick your fucking ass in,” she said.
The locks gave way and a big, burly guy with more hair on his chest than on his head opened the door. “Shit, M.J. Why didn’t you say it was you?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise. Donny in?”
The big guy led her to a dark office where a balding Greek sat behind stacks of paperwork. He glanced up, took notice of his visitor, then snickered and looked back down at his books. “To what do I owe the honor?”
She perched on his desk. They weren’t necessarily friends, but occasionally he came in handy. She’d even helped him track down some of his delinquent accounts a time or two. It was a professional courtesy that kept the biggest bail bondsman in town in her debt. “I’m looking for somebody.”
“Who isn’t?”
“He’s a pimp. He owes you money.”
Donny’s bushy eyebrow arched. “Who doesn’t?”
“I need to find him for my own reasons. You help me locate him and I’ll pay off his debt.”
Donny’s eyes narrowed. That was new. “What do you wanna help a punk kid like that for? Don’t you know he regularly recruits underage girls?”
“Let’s just say I’m trying to intercept the next one.”
Donny leaned back in his chair. “No skin off my nose. If anyone can find him, it’s probably you. But he’s a slippery little sonofabitch. Don’t trust anything that fucker says.”
She smiled sweetly. “Donny, when have I ever trusted anything anyone has ever said?”
He laughed. “Good point, I guess.” He rifled through a stack on his desk until he finally found a small piece of paper with handwriting on it. “His name is Billy Pruitt. He worked for me a while when he first hit town about five years ago. That was until he got his first girl, which was a lot more fun for him than being my little messenger. He used to hang out at the bus depot, going in between here and San Diego, Phoenix, and Vegas. But now that I’m onto him, he usually lets his girls do the dirty work for him. From what I can gather, he hops between motels and abandoned buildings. Good luck figuring out which ones.”
She smirked. “Don’t you have any faith in me, Donny?”
“I have faith that you’ll hear this. You can either bring me my money or bring me his ass. He will pay one way or the other.”
“Whatever you say,” she offered amicably. “Boss,” she added for good measure.
She headed out again, this time aiming her bike for the industrial section of Hollywood.
Baby found Snake sitting in an Adirondack chair on the back deck. He was nursing a beer and staring into the citronella candle burning on the table. “Hey,” she said softly as she joined him. She offered him a piece of the pie they had picked up on the way home.
He gave her a warm smile. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
She sat in the other chair. “I wanted to. It’s a big deal to me that you let me work with you in the shop today. I just wanted to say thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Baby,” he said. “You’re a sweetheart. It’s a joy to have you around.”
She warmed under his praise. “Thanks. I know it’s not the same as having M.J. around, though.”
He shrugged. “You can’t always get what you want.”
She touched his hand with hers. “But you should,” she said quietly. Just as she was rising from her seat, Kid burst out of the back door with his laptop in his hands. He looked positively frantic. Alarmed, she asked, “What’s the matter?”
He glanced between his brother and this girl he had been charged to protect. There was no way to be delicate. Like it or not, they were all in this together. “Fuck it,” he said, bringing the laptop to the table. He had pulled up the website for PING, a notorious gossip organization determined to find relevancy by being the first to break any news they could.
CLUE FOUND FOR HARD CANDY KILLER!
“What is this?” asked Snake.
“Maddy heard it on his police scanner about thirty minutes ago. These fuckers jumped right in. It’s security camera footage of that missing girl. She’s changing in the back of a used clothes store on Fountain, ditching some work clothes or something.”
He zoomed in on the photo. It was clearly Tammy stepping out of the black work suit. Snake’s stomach dropped. “When was this taken?”
“Sometime last night. Apparently the alarms went off, so they reviewed the tapes. This is what they found. She could be anywhere now.”
Baby wilted back into her chair and both guys looked at her. “You okay?” Snake asked.
She nodded, but looked green.
“You wanna talk about it?” Snake asked gently.
In a flash, she saw Isbecky’s face looming over hers. If she told Snake, he’d likely call the police. If the police were called, they’d li
kely want to know where she had been and who she had seen, and she just didn’t see that working out well for anyone. She shook her head and disappeared at once back in the house.
Snake and Kid shared a look before sinking back into their own chairs.
M.J. climbed to the top floor of an abandoned warehouse. Scattered homeless kids slept or congregated in small, drug-enhanced groups. They regarded her with suspicion but didn’t say anything as she made her way around the room. She certainly didn’t look like a cop or a parent, so they were content to wait and see if she would start any shit before doing anything.
She glanced over everyone until she saw light dancing off a bright red crew cut on a sleeping man in the corner. As she drew closer, she spotted the denim hobo bag his head was rested upon. Gently she eased it out under his head, but he immediately woke up and grabbed hold of her arm. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“This bag does nothing for your outfit, precious. You should fire your personal stylist immediately.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. “Who are you?”
“A friend of a friend,” she assured, refusing to let go of the purse. Finally she said, “Donny sent me.”
That piece of information set the redheaded man reeling. “I told him I’d have his money for him by the first of the month.”
She clicked her tongue. “Yeah, about that. He wants it now.”
“I don’t have it now,” he insisted.
“Then what’s in the bag?”
“Nothing!” There was a pause. “It belongs to a friend.”
“Tammy?” M.J. asked, and his eyes widened.
“You know Tammy?”
“We met briefly,” she assured him. “I need you to help me find her.”
He let go of the bag and dropped back on the floor. “I don’t know where she is, man. I haven’t seen her in days.”
“Where did you see her last?”
He paused again. “Just, you know. She went to make money and never came back.”
“On the streets?”
“Does it matter?” he shot back.
“Quite a lot, actually. What do you know about Dominic Isbecky?”
His eyes widened and he turned as white a sheet. “Who?”
It was just another way to stall her. “Yeah, okay,” she said with a shrug. “I thought I could help you if you could help me, but if you’re just going to lie about everything . . .” She trailed off and let the bait linger.
“What do you mean, ‘help me’?”
“I’m going to pay off your debt to Donny. Clean slate. All I need from you is some information about Tammy.”
“I don’t know anything, I swear to God.”
“I see,” she said. She looked down at the purse. “Is this hers?”
He gulped and then let the bag go. “No.”
She kept an eye on him as she reached inside for the wallet. She opened it to find no money, only a photo ID card for a sixteen-year-old named Haley Roberts. She placed it back in the purse and turned back toward the fire escape.
“Wait a second,” he said as he chased after her. “What about Donny?”
“What about him?” she retorted. “I told you the deal. Nothing has changed in the last thirty seconds.”
He pulled her back. “She was with Isbecky,” he finally admitted.
“I know that much, Einstein. Tell me where. When.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since Friday. He kept her at his house.”
“Where?” she probed.
“Hollywood. The hills.”
“Fine,” she decided. “Show me.”
He shook his head. “There’s no way in hell I’m going back. I barely made it out with my life last time.”
She took a deep breath. “Fine. Write it down.” She handed him Baby’s old sketchpad, which had miraculously remained untouched in her bag.
“She could be anywhere,” he said as he drew an amateur map of the hills. “He has, like, five houses throughout L.A., with property in Napa, San Diego, Palm Springs, and Vegas. No one ever knows where he is at any given time. It’s harder to hit a moving target.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she said, checking her phone. There was a message from Kelly. Her brow furrowed, and she returned the call. “What do you want?”
Billy returned the pad just as she shoved her phone back into her pocket. “I gotta go,” she said, slinging the bag over her shoulder.
“What about Donny?” Billy called after her. She ignored him as she slipped out of the window and down the fire escape.
She met Kelly at a coffeehouse near Gower Street. He stood as she approached. Neither of them was particularly happy to see the other. “Did you find her?”
He shook his head. “Nothing since last night. Where is she going to go? She has nothing. She didn’t even bother stealing from the cash register of that secondhand store.”
“She has money,” M.J. informed him. “Enough to get her to Las Vegas.”
They beat a path to the bus station downtown, where M.J. once again cornered Edna. Her eyes widened when M.J. introduced him. Never in all her years had M.J. had a cop at her side. She was quick to comply, offering any and all information she had—which was a big fat zero. “Like I told you, I haven’t seen her since that day she picked up that other runaway.”
Kelly glanced between M.J. and Edna, but M.J. just nodded and herded Kelly back out to his unmarked sedan. “We’ll try some other places. If she’s smart, she went to the Inland Empire to catch a bus clean out of Dodge.” She opened the passenger door, but Kelly held her back.
“Not until you tell me what happened to that other runaway.”
She sighed. “I told you. I put her on a bus and sent her home.”
“And where’s home?”
“North Carolina,” she answered easily.
He studied her. “Are you lying to me, M.J.?”
“Of course,” she answered. “I lie to cops all the time. It’s kind of my hobby.” He rolled his eyes. “Newsflash, hotshot, no one is going to tell you they’re lying. That’s the whole purpose of lying. You really need to work on your interrogation skills, Detective.”
“M.J., this is fucking serious!”
“I know!” she shouted back. “Why do you think I’m with you? For my health? For your charm? For our oh-so-witty repartee?” They stared each other down for a moment, then she placed a hand on her hip. “Now are you driving, or shall I?”
He gritted his teeth as he stalked around to the driver’s side. “Get in.”
They didn’t fare any better at any other locations, even after heading away from Los Angeles proper. As they approached the I-15 exchange on Interstate 10, he turned to her. “You know, Vegas is only a few hours away.”
She sighed, turned up the radio and said, “Drive fast.”
The sun was nearly up by the time they rounded the last hill and Las Vegas sprawled across the desert like a mirage in front of them. M.J. hadn’t slept. She watched the road and said nothing. They were at the bus terminal by daybreak, and they decided to eat breakfast at the diner and keep watch on all arrivals from Southern California.
He opted for an egg white omelet. She ate toast and drank coffee. Neither said much as they watched the endless line of people filing off bus after bus. Their hopes fell with each new batch. This was a dead end.
All either could hope for was that it wasn’t a dead end for Tammy.
They gave the information to one of M.J.’s Vegas contacts and headed for L.A. They had already wasted enough time. It was time to go home. She’d hound Billy until he led her right to Isbecky’s door . . . each and every fucking one of them.
Her mood was decidedly sour on the return trip. Kelly kept watching her out of the corner of his eye. Finally he sighed. “I’m sorry, M.J.”
She shrugged. “It was a long shot.”
“Not that,” he corrected softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about Slick.”
&n
bsp; She looked at him. “And now you do?” He shrugged. “What changed your mind from this morning?”
He kept his eyes on the highway. “You’re afraid. And I get the feeling you only get that way when you’re not in control. That means you don’t have her.”
“She could have run away,” she suggested.
He nodded. “Yeah. She could have.” He looked at her. “But she didn’t.”
“Why the change of heart, Harris? Did you suddenly find your conscience in Sin City?”
He shook his head. “No. I just believe in admitting when I’m wrong.”
She chuckled. “Are you sure you’re a cop?”
He slid her a glance. “I’m not your enemy, M.J.”
Another chuckle. “You’re certainly not my friend.”
He shrugged with a smirk. “What’s a broken nose between friends?”
Her text alert went off on her phone. She tugged it from her pocket. It was a message from Snake. He wanted to know where she was, which wasn’t like him. Her stomach sank as she considered what it could mean.
“Mr. M.J.?” Kelly asked.
“I already told you there’s nobody,” she said as she typed out her message.
“Eugene Fitzpatrick,” Kelly commented casually.
She finished her text and replaced her phone before she turned to him. “What are you mumbling about now?”
“Oh, just this guy I met the other night. He didn’t seem the type to frequent topless bars, and he certainly didn’t seem Irish. And he knew you,” Kelly added with a pointed look.
“A lot of people know me,” she replied. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he said. “Tell yourself that you’ll never get close to anyone. Tell yourself that it makes one damned bit of difference how far away you stay. In the end, if someone wants to get to you, they can usually figure out how.” He paused only momentarily. “Like your mom.”
He felt her slam shut like a steel door. “What the fuck do you know about my mom?”
“I know how she died, M.J.”
She turned her head toward the window and said nothing. Miles passed before either of them spoke. He knew it was a big risk to take her along this road, much less bring up what happened there decades before. He knew that was why she had been so quiet. She was pensive about Tammy, yes. But her wounds cut much deeper than that.
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