Where The Devil Won't Go: A Lucas Peyroux Novel

by E. J. Findorff

  “Frank Harvin’s here? Wonderful. Thanks officer.” We walked towards the ambulance, seeing Tabitha being escorted by the arm by Harvin in plain clothes as a paramedic waited. Tabitha appeared agitated, trying to pull from Harvin’s grip.

  We heard her voice rise. “Let me go.” She yanked her arm away and when Harvin reached again, her elbow shot up into his mouth, splitting his lip. Tara and I sprinted the rest of the way.

  “Whoa, there.” I separated Tabitha from Harvin, who was bent over, wiping blood from his chin. “Harvin, why do people feel the need to kick your ass?”

  “Fuck you, Peyroux. She assaulted me. Arrest the bitch.”

  “For what?” Tabitha screamed. “I refused medical treatment and you were forcing me into the ambulance.”

  “She’s right, Frank.” Tara added. “You have no cause to subdue a witness like this.”

  “She has a concussion and I was holding her steady. I’m filing a complaint. That was assault. I’m not letting this go.” Harvin turned to engage the paramedic who had retrieved supplies to treat his lip. They walked to the back of the ambulance.

  “That was an accident.”

  Tara touched my arm. “I’ll check inside. You interview Tabitha again.”

  “Alright. Meet you back out here.”

  I opened up the door of a squad car and let Tabitha sit with her feet hanging down toward the street. The paramedic’s partner ran up with an ice pack for her cheek. She smiled at me. “Not a typical night at Molly’s Girls.”

  “Looks like you had quite a scare.” I stayed outside the car, but faced her.

  “Ray kind of flipped out.”

  “You want to tell me what happened?”

  “He came in shooting, looking for Cozy. We were in my office just before he got here.”

  “What happened to Cozy?”

  “I told her to turn herself in and I think she was going to. Ray came in with guns blazing. I scooted Cozy out the bathroom window. Don’t know where she is now.” She lifted the ice pack to show a bandage over a laceration and a swollen face.

  “No idea where Ray would go look for her?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Any idea where Cozy would be?”

  “She might be back at her hotel room at the Days Inn. Maybe she’s at a police station.”

  “You need to get checked out at the hospital, but it’s just a suggestion.” I back up a step with my hands up in surrender.

  “I’m alright.”

  “The place you sent us to was cleaned out. No party. Sort of like they were tipped off.”

  “I didn’t do it. She didn’t answer my call. That was it.”

  Tara’s voice called out from behind. “Lucas, got a minute?”

  I gave Tabitha a lingering pause, then turned to put some distance between us. “What’s up?”

  “Looks like Ray came in and shot at Cozy, who escaped through the bathroom window.”

  “That’s Tabitha’s story.”

  “There are bullet holes leading to and into the bathroom. Someone left out the window.”

  “I still believe she’s protecting her. Ms. Wheelhouse’s demeanor wasn’t that of someone who was attacked. Her body language was too relaxed.

  “What say we let Tabitha go for now?”

  I nodded. “Sure, whether it’s Cozy or Ray, she’s going to lead us to one of them.”

  Tabitha climbed out of the squad when she saw my approach. She asked, “How much longer?”

  “I’ll send the responding officer over to take your statement and then you’ll be free to leave. Sorry about officer Harvin. He tends to be a little overenthusiastic.”

  “I’m fine. And you’ll find Cozy? You need to find her before Ray does.”

  “Their pictures are being distributed. We won’t stop until we find her.” I yawned on purpose. “We’ll dispatch several officers to stake out their home addresses and then we’ll start fresh in the morning. God, this has been a long day.”

  “I just want this all to be over with.” Tabitha sat back down in the back seat.

  “You’ll be out of here within minutes. We’ll contact you tomorrow if we hear anything.”

  “Thank you, detective.”

  Chapter 38

  The backseat of the cab reminded Cozy of the strip club, despite being spotless. Perhaps knowing what sticky, disgusting substances had to be cleaned off her seat on a daily basis kept her from touching anything.

  The black cab driver spoke with an accent she guessed to be African. “This is a strange request to be taken to the Container Terminal at this hour.”

  “Is it?”

  “You meeting someone? That is not a place for a pretty, young woman such as yourself.” His eyes saw her in the rearview mirror.

  “I’m good.”

  “Men are not to be trusted in the dead of night. You do not want to hear how many girls from my village were taken by force – by men making their own rules.”

  “Sorry, but I’ll be fine.”

  But, would she be? The cab pulled to a stop. Cozy stepped onto the dark, isolated parking lot of Apex Industries. She could wait for the right opportunity, she supposed. If Senator Folsom admitted to the party hosts that he blabbed, then they should be getting the girls out of here tonight.

  No cars were in the lot, but they could be parked in the warehouse for all she knew.

  Tabby didn’t want her to kill innocents, but who in the flesh trade really was? The problem was that she didn’t know the top dog. If nothing happened tonight, then she would live another day to find that out. However, if things got going, she would have to play it to the end. There were girls being sold through this dock and this was probably where Haley had been killed.

  She squeezed between the gap of the padlocked chain link fence. The property floodlights exposed the cranes, forklifts and general walking routes marked with yellow lines, which were protected by guard rails and squat, thick poles sticking out of the cement. Everything left in the elements was unsecured, but having a guard making rounds wouldn’t be unheard of. No sign of movement yet.

  The nearest structure was a warehouse stretching two stories with APEX written in giant bold letters across one wall. She saw no windows save one by an entrance door that sat to the right of four huge openings made for semi trucks and forklifts. She surveyed the area one last time before approaching the normal-sized door, feeling more exposed than she ever did on stage. The solid knob turned left and right, but wouldn’t move a millimeter due to the deadbolt.

  There was a lot of land to cover, but the reserved parking spots up front told her that this building was the main hub of activity for the business, so she doubted if the girls were kept inside. Instead, she hugged the outside wall of the warehouse until reaching the far end where barrels and palates were stacked, but still no place for entry. The corner floodlight illuminated where the foundation ended and a gravel road began, leading far off into the darkness. Squinting, she could make out a distant light pole over a smaller, fenced in structure a couple hundred yards away. That isolated location made more sense.

  Cozy ran with little pebbles collecting in her shoes, until coming to a gate at the end of the road. She easily scaled the eight-foot fence and was more comfortable to be hidden in the shadows. The rusting warehouse was about the size of a supermarket with one large set of chained double doors and a single entry door and no windows. She turned the knob and the door opened with a cracking noise, causing a spike in adrenaline. If anyone was inside, they’d heard her.

  “Hello?” Her voice choked.

  Without an answer, she felt against the wall for a light switch, finding a fuse box with a large lever on the side. Turn on the lights? What the hell was she thinking? She progressed forward in the darkness. The aroma of cleaning products filled the air, reminding her of the cleanup with Titus.

  Within moments, she could see from the illumination through the skylight that the warehouse was empty and immaculately clean. Firstly, why would the
re be a locked fence for a completely empty warehouse and secondly, why wouldn’t this empty warehouse be covered with dust and cobwebs?

  Instead of crossing through the middle, Cozy walked the perimeter, coming to an area near the rear with assorted items neatly organized including stacked buckets, several empty garbage cans and a coiled-up water hose leaking into the nearby drain.

  She almost stepped onto a stained mattress. There were maybe twenty of them lying next to each other. Next to them were corresponding iron half-loops set in concrete that was a different pour from the rest of the foundation. They were big enough to hold shackles and the fresh grooves in the loops indicate they had been used often. Haley could have been here. Folsom had told her about loading the women into a cargo container. Perhaps that’s where they had been moved. Her shoulders hurt from the tension. Ray had nothing on the rage she felt.

  Once outside in the dark humidity, she kept to the shadows on her way to the cargo containers stacked on several acres next to the Mississippi River. There was no way to find the right container from the hundreds stacked on the land before her. Letters of the alphabet signified the rows. Further into the depths of these containers, she found the naming convention progressed into three digit numbers and then something in her memory clicked. She pulled out a folded piece of paper that had been sitting loose in Ray’s safe. It had a list with the same numbering system with one row highlighted in yellow. She squinted to make it out, continuing on until finding the specified row on the paper: column D, row 240, container CGR10345.

  The corrugated blue metal box sat alone, not on top of or under any other container. Still, it was disguised among the others of different colors and a titanic pad lock prevented her from entry. Muffled voices pulled her ear to the container, however she found they weren’t coming from within the box. Guards?

  Men approached from some yards away, two at minimum, talking casually. Cozy ran tiptoe to the opposite side of the container and waited as the men drew near. They stopped, speaking in a language she guessed to be Russian. The men laughed, one of them tapping on the metal wall. Dressed in plain clothes carrying machine guns, these were unlike any security guards Cozy had ever seen.

  She didn’t feel herself tilting backwards until it was too late. Her back thumped against the container, and she tried to catch herself in an effort not to make noise. She failed. The voices on the other side of the container grew loud in alarm. Cozy could feel them rounding the corner, so she flung herself into the adjoining row of containers, hoping to get lost in the maze of redundancy.

  The men had split up; she could hear distinct pursuit to her left and right. With her switchblade in hand, she tracked one of the men’s clumsy movements parallel to her until he came into view. His annoyed expression and casual demeanor meant he wasn’t hopeful of finding anything, probably thinking it an animal that had made the noise. He dropped his automatic weapon to his side and that show of carelessness would be his downfall.

  Cozy sprang onto his back, driving her blade into his throat and twisting it with torque. A gurgled moan fizzled to a wheeze before he fell onto his side as blood shot from his neck like a fountain. These guys better be human traffickers. They have to be.

  She collected his gun. It felt weighty in her hands, more than she expected. She slipped between containers once again to wait for his partner. Eternal moments later, shuffling feet ran past to the dead body. She could hear his frantic calls into the radio, which would be good to get the boss on the scene. Just when the man finished speaking, he spun around, expecting an attack. What he received was a hail of bullets in his chest causing his arms to jerk out like a new dance move.

  Cozy picked up the radio from his feet and clicked the button. “Who is this? Give me a name, coward.” No answer. “Get down here, fucker.” She released the button waiting for a response that never came.

  However, another voice spoke from behind. “You took out two of my men.”

  “Ray.” A blunt kick to her stomach sent her reeling, losing her weapon before turning onto her back. He hovered with the devil in his eyes.

  His head popped back with a quick chuckle. “I never liked that guy.”

  Her muscles froze while the butt of the rifle came at her, seemingly in slow motion. She felt the wallop on her face, causing a flash of light before she could even raise her hand. Yet, it hadn’t hurt. Her body operated on its own accord, rolling onto her side to reach for the gun, but Ray kicked it out of her reach. When she tried to stand, he put his heel in her stomach. Why was there no pain?

  He bent over her face. “Hard for me to believe a little nothing such as yourself caused all this havoc. We’re having to move the girls out tonight because of you.”

  “Cops are coming,” she moaned.

  “Shut up. At first, I planned on paying you back, but then I realized, you’ve walked into a much grander form of retribution.” He glanced at the cargo container. “Due to the time and place, I won’t have that chance to hear you begging me to take your life. But, it greatly pleases me that you will suffer a fate more horrible than death, the slow torture of your soul.”

  She spit at his feet and the last thing Cozy remembered was his fist flying at her head and she still didn’t feel a thing.

  #

  Her eyes opened to blackness, only slivers of dull illumination allowed for any perspective. Ah, there was the pain. At first she thought sweat had rolled down her nose, but she touched her forehead and felt the mushy gash. The smell of urine and defecation hung stagnant in the air. Cozy’s head ached as she pushed herself into a sitting positing, immediately feeling the skin of another person.

  “Who’s that?”

  No one spoke, but she could hear breathing and movement, like being in a pit of snakes. Cozy held her hand out, feeling for what might be a leg. “Who are you? Are you okay?”

  This person was lying down, either asleep or unconscious. Ray had put her in the container. These were the girls to be shipped out. How long had they been waiting in that warehouse? Days? Weeks?

  “Is anybody there?”

  “Ssh. No talk,” an accented whisper said, “They hear you, they take food and water away… Beat us.”

  “What’s your name?”

  Silence.

  The racket of heavy equipment and motors grew near. Something smashed against the container where a few of the girls offered an abbreviated moan. The buzz of machinery through the metal meant they were being moved. Cozy stood and banged on the walls, screaming to be let out. None of the others joined in, having already been broken, drugged or just resigned to their fate.

  “The police are on their way,” she screamed again, pressing her forehead against the wall.

  When the container started floating, she knew it had been lifted. Vertigo forced her back into a sitting position, and she closed her eyes to focus on not passing out. Her entire face felt swollen.

  If she left this port, there would be no saving her from a life of horror, being sold to the highest bidder, spending her remaining youth doped up in a distant land, turning tricks until she was used up and thrown away. Or maybe she’d be the personal whore of an oil tycoon, a sheik, passing her around to his rich friends at parties.

  Oh, shit.

  Chapter 39

  In many of the one-lane streets of New Orleans, the frequent red lights and congested traffic often meant the car in front of you would stay the same until they turned onto a side street, and that made tailing someone fairly easy. We positioned ourselves two cars behind Ms. Wheelhouse as she pulled from a garage in the Quarter until she turned her lights off in the parking lot of Apex Industries. Even if we had lost her, we quickly deduced that this was her destination.

  I slowed to a stop at a safe distance. “Well, this is interesting.”

  “Is she meeting Cozy or does she just think she came here?”

  “Why would they want to meet here?” I asked. “This has to be Cozy’s next stop on her revenge tour, although she couldn’t expect an
yone to be here at this hour, so I’m vexed. This is so vexing. This vexes me.”

  “Gladiator quotes now?”

  “I’m impressed you got it.”

  “Whatever. We have to assume she learned something about the dock while at the phantom party.”

  “I think we should stop Ms. Wheelhouse before she goes in. Confronting Ray or Cozy could be taking your life in your hands.”

  “That’s true. Let’s go.”

  I coasted to the side of Tabitha’s car just as she got out. She stopped to rest against the door with her arms folded. “I should have known.”

  “Can you blame us?” I approached her side with Tara staying three feet back.

  Tabitha waved her hand at the Apex building. “I wasn’t totally honest with you. Cozy thinks someone who works here is behind Haley’s death. This is the only place she knew to come.”

  “You should have told us.”

  “I know. Part of me wants to help her get away with it. Jesus, I don’t know why I came out here. I’m going to get myself killed.”

  “You love her,” I said.

  Tabitha turned her face away and didn’t reply.

  “What did Cozy tell you exactly?” Tara asked.

  “That she was going to break in to his office and try to find something incriminating.”

  “So she could kill him with a clear conscience,” Tara spoke what we were all thinking.

  “You have to stay here, Tabitha. We’ll go in for her.” I opened the car door for her to wait.

  “With pleasure.” She fell into the Beemer. “I know I keep saying this, but please don’t hurt her. She’s been through so much.”

  I closed the door. “I know.”

  Tara grabbed my arm. “You hear that noise? Some kind of machinery fired up.” We scanned the sprawling Apex property. “Something’s going down. I’m calling for back up.”

  “Do it quick.” I gestured. “Let’s go.”