Angel Dance (Danny Logan Mystery #1)

by M. D. Grayson

  “You say she knew where he lives? Did she tell you where? Do you know what kind of car he drives?” Toni asked.

  “I saw him driving a silver Mercedes once,” she said. “It looked pretty new to me. Gina said he rented a house across from a cemetery in Kent.”

  Toni turned back to her notes for a second, and then turned to me again and asked, “Enough background?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. I turned to Kara and said, “Let’s talk again about last Thursday. As accurately as you can remember, what happened?”

  “I talked to Gina earlier in the day, and she said that we’d get together that weekend. At about eight thirty that night, I get a knock on my door. It’s Eddie. I didn’t even know he knew where I lived. He barged right in past me and slammed the door. He started asking me questions about Gina. At first I was pissed. But then, I discovered that he was really angry. Then I got scared instead. He asked me where Gina was. When I told him the truth and said I didn’t know, he hauled off and slugged me.” Kara started crying again as the pain of the recollection hit her. She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue she was holding. “He slugged me, the bastard. I was stunned. I never knew something could hurt like that. He knocked me down and it felt like my fucking head exploded. I saw stars. Then, he dragged me back to the sofa, real rough like. Now I’m petrified. He slammed me down and he asked me again. Like I suddenly remembered, right? I told him the same thing—that I didn’t know—and this time, he slapped me, hard! This went on for about twenty minutes or so, before I guess he either got tired or maybe he believed me.”

  She sniffled and fought back the tears, then continued. “Then he pulled out a knife and put the point under my chin. See?” She leaned back, and I saw a healing wound from a knife point. “He told me if I saw Gina, I’d better call Ramon’s immediately and leave a message for a guy named, Armando—let me think—Armando Martinez, that’s it. I was supposed to call and leave a message for Armando Martinez to call me back. Then I was supposed to tell him what I’d seen. He told me if I didn’t do what he said, or if I told her he was looking for her, or if I called the police, he’d be back and he’d cut me open.” She cried for a second, then got control of herself.

  “I take it you’ve not heard from Gina,” I said.

  “No, not a word. Next morning I called in sick at work. I spent the weekend in bed, doing nothing. I felt like I’d been run over by a damn delivery truck. I still looked like shit on Monday, so I called up and arranged a two-week vacation. I didn’t want to go in and be seen like this, and I didn’t want to have to explain what had happened. I called Nicky and he’s been staying with me ever since. That’s pretty much it.”

  “Have you heard from Eddie since last Thursday?” Toni asked.

  “No, nothing—thank God.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a story,” Toni said. She turned to me. “What do you think, Danny?”

  “I think this guy Eddie Salazar is a psycho nutcase, that’s what I think. And based on the way he’s been acting, and the people he surrounds himself with, he’s dangerous. I think it’s pretty obvious, Kara, that you’re in danger here. And,” I continued, glancing toward Nick, “it’s the kind of danger that Nick isn’t going to be able to do anything about with that Glock in his waistband. If Eddie Salazar shows up and he wants you dead and you’re here, you’re dead. Period. End of story. He’ll show up with three or four of his flunkies, and they’ll just blast the whole damn building. If Nick is here, he’ll be dead, too. You can see that this guy won’t think twice. He most likely has no conscience that we would recognize.” I paused for a second, thinking, then continued. “I have no idea what game Gina might have played with him, or might still be playing with him, for that matter. But if he caught her, it’s pretty damn clear that she’s dead, too.”

  I let all of that sink in, and then I said, “I hate to say it, but I think the only way you can be truly safe now is to get out of town until this thing sorts itself out. In all honesty, if I were you, that’s what I’d do. You said you just put in for vacation. Go ahead and take it somewhere you can’t be found. Give us a chance to find this idiot before he comes back here for round two.”

  Kara started to cry again. “What about the police? Can they protect me?”

  “They didn’t protect you last time,” I said. “Chances are, they won’t be around next time he comes calling either. They’re not going to give you a personal bodyguard.”

  “Do you guys do that?”

  “We do, but we already have a case—we’re trying to find Gina. The good news is that us working that case also helps you out.”

  She sniffled and reached for another cigarette. “Do you really think he’ll come after me?”

  “He might. He already has once. You’re a loose end, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he suddenly figures he doesn’t like loose ends. That’s bad. Worse, he told you he wanted to kill Gina. Apparently, he doesn’t care that you know that. That’s scary. He was probably going to just watch you and see if you lead him to Gina or if she might show up around here. But I wouldn’t put it past him to come back. I definitely think you’d be safer somewhere where he can’t reach you. At least for a while.”

  “Give us some time, Kara. We’ll find him.” Toni said. “We’re going to get him, and then it will be safe for you to come back.”

  Kara looked at Nick. He nodded at her. She turned back to me.

  “When does this end?” she asked.

  “When we catch the sick bastard,” I said. “How soon can you leave?”

  ~~~~

  Kara assured us that they’d be gone in two hours and that they’d call us when they got to their destination, which I told her I didn’t need to know. We said our good-byes, and Toni and I left the apartment.

  “She’s scared to death,” Toni said as we walked down the steps to the parking lot.

  “Yeah, well, that’s probably healthy for her,” I said. “Salazar can’t get to her if he doesn’t know where she is.”

  Just as I stepped off the bottom stair, I saw from the corner of my eye a large stick making a fast arc directly for my head. “Look out!” I yelled to Toni as I ducked and simultaneously threw my left arm out to block the blow.

  The stick—turned out to be a two-by-four—glanced off my forearm, deflected off the very top of my head and thwacked into the wall behind me, throwing a shower of stucco chips into the air. I heard Toni scream, but I was unable to look back or help her because attached to the other end of the stick was the tall bald-headed Mexican gangster we’d confronted at Ramon’s two nights ago. My left arm hurt like hell, and I’d seen stars when the two-by-four had whacked me in the top of my forehead, right where my nose had been one second earlier. I felt the blood trickle down my face. I staggered forward, determined not to go down. Still bent over, I looked up.

  For his part, Mr. Big and Tall apparently hadn’t considered he might miss me with the two-by-four at point-blank range. Having it slam into the wall must have surprised him for a moment. He stared at me, wondering whether I was hit or not, wondering whether I was going to go down. The blood on my head added to his confusion. When he saw that I was still alive and well, he started to regain his wits. He began to pull the board back for a second go at me. This wouldn’t do—I didn’t want him taking another swing. I was halfway dazed, but I recognized an opportunity. Since I was already bent forward and down below him, while he recoiled to swing at me again, I hit him with an uppercut to the groin with everything I had as I stood. The force of the blow, backed by my full 180 pounds, nearly picked him up off the ground. His eyes went wide, and his mouth made a little O—no sound came out. The two-by-four fell out of his hand. In that instant, before he could recover, I head-butted him across the bridge of his nose, and he dropped to his knees, as if ready to pray. He knelt there, motionless, for a second, before collapsing forward in a heap.

  I turned to help Toni just in time to see her drive a hard elbow into the gut of Mr. Short and Round, who had appeared be
hind her and tried to put her into a choke hold. He held on. She elbowed him again and then once more before he let her go. I took a step toward her, and she yelled at me, “Get back!”

  I looked at her face as she spun around to face her assailant. There was no fear—only rage. Krav Maga teaches us to change from defense to offense as soon as possible. She confronted Short and Round and automatically dropped into a fighting stance. He threw a big sweeping right hand at her head, which she easily ducked. In response, Toni threw a sharp left jab, which smacked solidly into his nose. He blinked his eyes. Before he could recover, she hit him again in the exact same spot. Then, she started a flying back kick. Not technically a Krav Maga move, the kick was nonetheless very effective if you knew how to pull it off. Toni did. Her Doc Marten connected at full speed directly on the nose of Mr. Short and Round and essentially pulverized it. He screamed as blood gushed down his face and onto his shirt. He fell to the ground.

  “Asshole!” Toni yelled at him, stepping back and watching him fall.

  With both assailants down in only a few seconds of intense action, I was about to tell Toni to watch out for others when a gunshot exploded in the parking lot, directly behind us. We both spun around to see Eddie Salazar standing in the lot, smoking revolver pointed in the air. He leveled it at me before we had a chance to reach our own weapons. He stared at us for a few seconds, no emotion visible on his face. Then he seemed to get pissed.

  “Pendejos!” he screamed, not at us, but at the two men we’d dispatched. “One skinny gringo and his puta, and you chingóns go down in seconds? I never been so embarrassed in my whole life! Mueven sus culos al coche!”

  The two men staggered to their feet and started to shuffle off to a car parked in the street. Salazar watched them pass. At the sound of the gunshot, several people had dropped to the ground or ducked behind cars. Most were peering out now, trying to see what was going on. A nearby patrol officer must have also heard the gunshot because a siren suddenly started blaring a few blocks away.

  Salazar stared at us for another moment, then he smiled. “Amigos,” he said. “Well done. Now I know more about how to approach you.” He paused, then added, “And you should rest assured, our business is not done. We’ll meet again.” He started to turn to leave.

  I tend to get pissed when people threaten me, so I started to step toward him. Toni grabbed my arm and held me back. “Don’t be an idiot,” she whispered, still breathing hard. “It’s over. We’re okay here.”

  She was right. I took a deep breath and tried to relax as Salazar and his men loaded up and sped off to the west on Green Lake Drive.

  I took another deep breath and saw stars all over again. “Fuck me, my head hurts.”

  “Yeah, you should see yourself,” she said. “You’re covered in blood. I thought you were dead.”

  “I heard you scream.”

  “I screamed when I saw you get hit. I couldn’t help it. Then that fat bastard grabbed me from behind and tried to choke me.”

  At that moment, Nick appeared at the top of the stairs. “You guys alright?” he shouted.

  “Yeah,” Toni said.

  Nick looked at me with horror. “Did he shoot you? I already called 911.”

  “No,” I said. “They hit me with a two-by-four. They were hiding behind this wall when we stepped off the stairs. He fired into the air so they could get away.”

  “Holy shit!” he said.

  ~~~~

  Two minutes later, a police cruiser pulled into the lot. Toni was on the phone with Dwayne explaining what had happened. Nick brought me a couple of towels for my head. Three more police cruisers and a paramedic unit were on the scene within fifteen minutes. There were several witnesses who told the same story—a couple coming down the stairs got jumped by two Mexican gangster–looking guys. When the attacked couple turned the tables and kicked the gangsters’ asses, a third gangster stepped in and fired a shot in the air. Words were exchanged, but the Mexicans drove away in a silver Mercedes.

  Satisfied that neither Toni nor I had been the ones to fire the shot, even though we were both armed, the cops left us to the paramedics. They cleaned my scalp wound and told me to go to the emergency room. Toni drove.

  Before we left, I called Nick over.

  “Thanks for calling the cops, Nick,” I said. “Might have made a difference. When Salazar heard the siren, he decided to leave. Now that those guys are gone, they’re probably off licking their wounds somewhere. Perfect time for you to take Kara and get her away from here before Salazar regroups. No doubt, he’ll be back.”

  ~~~~

  “Jesus, Danny,” Toni said as we entered my apartment after spending two hours at the emergency room. “I saw all that blood, and I was scared to death. I thought they might have taken your head off.”

  I smiled. “Well, I appreciate your concern. Scalp wounds bleed a lot. No big deal.” I hadn’t even needed stitches—the doctor just X-rayed my arm, taped my head, and sent me on my way.

  “I know, but still,” she said.

  “Anyway, speaking of taking people’s heads off, you were a fucking tiger. I thought you were going to behead that guy with that back kick of yours.”

  She smiled. “Connected pretty solid, didn’t it?”

  “Sure did.”

  “I was pissed,” she said.

  “I saw it in your face,” I said, smiling. “No fear, just anger.”

  “I thought they hurt you. I wanted to finish my guy in case I had to go after yours. I didn’t see you take your guy out. Even with you being all bloody like that, you still got him. Looks like the Krav Maga stuff really works.”

  “Worked out nice, didn’t it?” I said. I smiled at her. Nice to have someone like that who cared.

  She looked in my eyes, then nodded. “It did,” she said.

  Chapter 10

  AT THE END of the summer of 2000 after graduating from high school, I joined the U.S. Army. My personal game plan was four years for my country as an infantry grunt, and then four more years for myself as a special agent in the Army Criminal Investigation Division learning a trade other than infantry. My idea was that in the second four years, I’d be able to prepare myself for a career in civilian law enforcement.

  It played out pretty much as I planned, although two separate tours of combat duty with the 101st Airborne Division in the Middle East were not something I’d originally expected. I served with the Second Battalion Raider Rakkasans in the Shah-i-Kot Mountains of Afghanistan in Operation Enduring Freedom and later with the Third Battalion Iron Rakkasans in Iraq during the first months of Operation Iraqi Freedom. We were one of the first units into Iraq when the “Shock and Awe” bombing ceased. Through a combination of excellent U.S. Army training and preparation mixed in with a little blind-assed luck, I survived my two tours, although I was wounded twice in Iraq—first by an insurgent with an AK-47, and then two months later by that piece of shrapnel from a grenade. The shrapnel wound was actually the more dangerous of the two, though neither kept me out of action more than ten days. I was lucky. Hooah.

  I had mixed feelings about leaving the infantry. My friends were in the infantry, and I was good at what I did. We looked down our noses at the pogues in the rear. The occasional adrenaline rush was huge. But even though I picked up sixty college credits through a correspondence college, the downtime was a drag. Also, getting wounded twice in two months may have been some sort of cosmic warning sign. “D-Lo! D-Lo! Get the hell out before your number’s up!” Anyway, I had a plan, and I was determined to stick with it. When our unit left Iraq and shipped back to Fort Campbell in January 2004, I took advantage of my original deal with the army and switched military occupations to Criminal Investigations Division—CID. With CID, I learned the business of law enforcement as it applied to felons within the U.S. Army. I was trained in legal procedures, criminal investigation procedures, arrests, warrants—the whole spectrum of law enforcement. In four years assigned to the Sixth MP Group (CID) stationed in Fort Lewis, n
ear Tacoma, I ran across the same sorts of crimes that a civilian detective in a large metropolitan city typically encounters: murder, rape, robbery, burglary—we even had a few gang members stationed at Fort Lewis that we eventually busted for weapons charges.

  Of all these, as is the case with most law enforcement personnel, I learned to reserve a special hatred for the bastards who killed, hurt, or otherwise abused women and children. For some reason known only to God, there are some guys who completely lack any semblance of a moral compass. They have no conscience, probably not even a soul. They don’t consider the people they hurt to be people. To them, their weaker victims are not somebody’s wife or mother or daughter or sister. These guys have a short circuit in those pea brains of theirs that enables them to believe their victims are their own personal play toys to be used as they want, and then thrown away when they’re done. Move on. No remorse. No second thoughts. They would think no more about hurting or even killing someone than most people would think about swatting a mosquito. It just didn’t register for them.

  As far as I’m concerned, the depths of hell can’t possibly be hot enough for these bastards. I hate them. And now, one of them was after someone I cared about. It’s fair to say that he had my full attention.

  ~~~~

  We don’t take regular days off when we’re in the middle of a case. Weekday, weekend, holiday—all the same, makes no difference. The next day was a Saturday. We met as usual at 9:00 a.m.

  Dwayne and Gus, being civil servants, do take days off. Still, I invited them to dial in on a conference call and join our meeting, and they agreed.