Vanished - A Mystery (Dixon & Baudin Book 1)

by Victor Methos

  “Kyle? It’s Chris, man. Chris Stuttle.”

  “Oh, yeah, Chris. Hey, how are ya? What’re you doin’ out here?”

  Chris gave him a big smile. “Just moved in across the street there at the duplex.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, Hillary told me about it like a month ago, and I looked into it, and it fit the bill.”

  “Well, that’s great. I had no idea you were even interested in moving out here.”

  Chris looked back at the duplex. “Yeah, I was sick of where I was. The apartment was too loud, surrounded by people half my age, you know.”

  “Yeah. I will say this about my father’s generation: they knew how to shut the hell up at night.”

  Chris nodded. “Yeah. Well, hey, I just wanted to say hi. Maybe we can grab a beer sometime.”

  “Yeah, I’m actually having the WC game on Saturday. Few people over. You should come.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Great. Two o’clock. See ya then.”

  “See ya then.”

  Dixon strolled into his house with a grin. He’d always been fond of Chris and was glad this gave him someone in the neighborhood he could relate to. Most of his neighbors were older, and Dixon found their constant complaining irritating.

  “Hey,” he said, walking into the kitchen. He kissed Hillary on the cheek as she stirred some meat in a pan, then he took off his shoes, putting them on a shoe rack by the sliding glass doors.

  “How was work, babe?”

  “Ah, you know. Nothing to write home about. Guess who moved in across the street?” Hillary didn’t answer a moment. “Hillary, guess who moved in across the street?”

  “Huh? Sorry, paying attention to the food. Who?”

  “Chris Stuttle. From church.”

  “Oh, really? That’s interesting.”

  Dixon got a juice out of the fridge, popped the top, and took a drink. “Yeah, he said you told him about the duplex. I don’t know how much of a favor you did for him. That place needs a lot of work.”

  “Dinner’ll be ready soon.”

  He took another drink, kissed her again on the neck, and went to see his son.

  His boy was asleep. He’d sleep for about four hours and often wake up in the middle of the night. Dixon always volunteered to feed him. The boy was curled up, sucking on a pacifier. The moonlight streamed through the window and shone across his face. Dixon adjusted the blinds to block the light on him and hit the wall.

  He came out as Hillary was setting the table. He kissed her again, and she kept working as though he weren’t even there. With the boy asleep, he was hoping to fool around a little before dinner.

  Dixon came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, running kisses along her neck. She pulled away.

  “I’m not in the mood right now, babe. I’ve had stomach cramps all day.”

  “Uh-oh. Stomach bug?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Just kind of a dull pain. I think I ate something weird.”

  Dixon sat down as she served the food. She sat down across from him and began eating. Dixon wanted to say grace but felt he shouldn’t bring it up. She looked passively upset, as though she were trying desperately to hide her anger, but it still shone through.

  “Any new cases?” she said.

  “Yeah, one. Young girl that was killed.”

  “Mm,” she said with a mouthful of food, “how?”

  He hesitated. “She was crucified.”

  She looked up at him. “Seriously?”

  He nodded, staring down at his plate and realizing he wasn’t hungry. “Yeah, it’s as bad as it sounds.”

  “Who was she?”

  “I don’t know. We should have an ID from the dental records tomorrow.”

  She shook her head, putting her fork down and leaning back. “Poor girl. I hope you find who did it.”

  “I don’t think we will. See, if a homicide isn’t solved in the first two days, its chances of being solved don’t just drop a little. They drop to, like, almost zero. There’s few cases you can solve if there’s no witnesses to tell you who did it.” He looked down at his plate. “I don’t really want to talk about this now, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course. What do you want to talk about?”

  “I wanna talk about what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing.”

  “I can tell when you’re lying, Hil. Something’s bothering you.”

  She began eating again. “Nothing at all.”

  11

  Baudin finished work around nine and took a folder with him when he left. His cousin should’ve been at his house watching Heather, but when he called, there was no answer. He headed out of the precinct and stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the moon and enjoying the warm night air on his skin. Winters were rough here, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. But his worst enemy was monotony. The year-round warmth and sunshine of Los Angeles had worn him down until he was begging for a change.

  He lit a cigarette and leaned against a streetlight. A few cars drove by, and he watched them. He opened the folder tucked under his arm and glared at the photos he’d printed off: close-ups of their Jane Doe.

  When his cigarette was done, he flipped it into the gutter and drove up to the Motel 6 with his windows down. The wind whipped his face and hair. The more it whipped him, the faster he went until he was going almost ninety in a forty. He slowed down and rolled the windows up.

  Several women were already on the corners. He came to a stop in front of a group and rolled down his window.

  “Ladies,” he said.

  “Whatchoo need, honey?”

  “I’m looking for Candi Carlson. She out here?”

  “You a friend of hers?”

  “I am,” he said, flashing his badge.

  “Oh, well, we ain’t seen her.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I don’t know where she is. We just out here chillin’, ain’t breakin’ no laws, Officer.”

  Baudin put the car in park. He stepped out and leaned against it, watching the girls as he lit another cigarette. “So I guess if I search you girls I won’t find anything. No H or crystal, no weed. ’Cause you’re just chilling, right?”

  She folded her arms. “What you want with Candi?”

  “Just to talk. I swear it.”

  She nodded. “She up in room 210.”

  “Thanks.”

  He got back into his car and drove through the parking lot. Room 210 was right above him, overlooking a small pool. He got out, watching the way the lighted water reflected off the walls, and took the stairs up to the second level. He slipped the folder into the back of his waistband.

  The room had the blinds drawn but the lights on. He pressed his ear to the door and could hear a woman’s groans. He leaned his back against the wall and smoked, watching the pool below him.

  When the groans reached a fever pitch, he heard a male voice, too, swearing. Then the voices calmed, and a minute later a man stepped out. He was wearing tight jeans and a trucker’s hat.

  “She good to go, brother,” he said to Baudin.

  Baudin waited until the man was gone and then peeked into the room. Candi was lying on the bed in see-through lingerie, a sheen of sweat covering her face. Her eyes drifted over to him, and she smiled.

  “Officer, are you here for a freebie?”

  He stepped into the room, the reek of sex hitting his nostrils, and sat down in a recliner.

  “Could I have one of those?” she asked. He lit a cigarette and handed it to her. Her fingers caressed his hand a moment before she slid them up and took the cigarette, setting it gently between her lips. “So what exactly can I do for you?” she asked.

  Baudin sat back down in the recliner. “How many johns you get in a night?”

  “Good night? Twenty. Maybe twenty-five. Bad night, nobody.”

  “Do you enjoy what you do?”

  “I don’t think anybody enjoys what they do. That’s the curse of mo
dern days, I guess. Nobody’s happy… Are you happy?”

  He blew out a puff of smoke through his nose. “Do I look happy?”

  “No. But you don’t look sad, neither. You look… angry. Like the world’s done you wrong and you got a score to settle.”

  He raised an eyebrow, watching the red tip of her cigarette. “You out here without protection?”

  “I got protection.”

  “The woman in the car I saw the other night?”

  She nodded, inhaling gently and blowing out in a whisper. “She’s got some gorillas on her payroll. Big beefy guys that just got outta the WSP. They look out for me.”

  “How much do they take?”

  “Fifty percent.”

  “That’s a hefty tag for some protection.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t wanna be alone out here. A lotta sick bastards.”

  “I bet.” They smoked in silence for a second before Baudin said, “I need a favor. I’m going to give you some pictures, and I want you to ask around with the girls and see if anybody knows anything.”

  “What kinda pictures?”

  He took the folder out and leaned forward, tossed it on the bed, and watched her face. She picked up the photos, took a drag, and then put them down again. Almost no reaction, except that she swallowed when she looked at the first one.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She was crucified and disemboweled. Her breasts and genitals were cut off. I need to know if she was a working girl around here or not. And johns talk to their ladies. Maybe someone mentioned something about this.”

  She smirked. “I’m anything but a lady. You can call me what I am.”

  “What are you?”

  “I’m a whore, Officer. Just a plain old whore tryin’ to get by in the world.”

  He rose. “You are whatever you think you are. Everything is energy, Candi. You want something different, just attune your thoughts to the energy of what you want, and the universe will respond in kind.”

  She chuckled. “You some sorta priest?”

  “I’m not talking about God. I’m talking about energy. Thoughts are energy, matter is energy, even your soul is energy. You just gotta align all three to what you want, and you’ll get it.”

  “If there was truth to that, I don’t think your energy would have you in this room with me chasing down perverts.”

  He took a last puff of the cigarette and put it out in an ashtray on the nightstand. “No, I think this is exactly where my energy would bring me.” He took out a fifty and put it on the nightstand under the ashtray. “You have yourself a good night.”

  As he was going out the door, she said, “Officer?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What was your name again?”

  He watched her. “Ethan Baudin.”

  She nodded. “I’ll remember that next time. I promise.”

  He grinned, turned, and left.

  12

  Dixon woke with an erection. It wasn’t something that happened often since he’d turned thirty-five, but occasionally he would wake with one and feel like a young kid again. He turned to his wife and wrapped his arm around her. Laying kisses on her neck, he snuggled next to her, pressing his erection against her. She roused and for a moment pushed back into him. And then, as quickly as the moment came, it was gone. She withdrew. Not physically, but he could feel that she wasn’t into it anymore as surely as if she had risen and walked away.

  “What’s wrong?” he said.

  “It’s just early. I’m not feelin’ it.”

  “You used to feel it.”

  “I know, but… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m the worst wife.”

  He kissed her gently on the lips and then rolled away to sit up in bed. “No, it’s fine. I just thought it would give me something to think about during the day.”

  She rubbed his back. “Well, it’s better to have something to look forward to than a memory.”

  He grinned. “I’ll take you up on that, you know.”

  “Please do.”

  Dixon rose and strolled into the bathroom. He urinated, stripped down, and then got into the shower. “Oh, how many pizzas are you ordering for the game tomorrow?”

  “Is three enough?” she said from the bedroom.

  “Better make it four. I invited Jerry from work and Chris from across the street.”

  “Oh.”

  He began soaping his chest and arms. “Something wrong with Jerry and Chris?”

  “No, that’s fine. Just a lot of people. I don’t know if we have room.”

  “We’ll make room.”

  He finished showering and got out, staring at his body in the mirror. He’d been a track star in high school and had always been lean and muscular. But a slight belly protruded, and skin sagged in places it hadn’t ten years ago. To him, age seemed to be little more than the cumulative effects of gravity.

  “Hey, hon?” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  There was no answer for a moment. “I love you, too.”

  When he was done showering and dressing, Dixon went to his son. He picked him up and tickled his belly, which always made him smile. He played with him for twenty minutes until it was breakfast time, and then he brought the boy out and put him in a high chair at the table.

  “What do you two have planned for today?” he said, sitting down as she shoveled eggs and bacon onto his plate.

  “We’re going with Kelsey to the mall and then lunch.”

  He took a bite of eggs then rose and retrieved the Tabasco from the fridge. “I’ll probably be late for dinner. Wanna catch up on some stuff so I don’t have to go in tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep a plate hot for you.”

  She brought him orange juice, and he took her hand, staring up at her eyes. Kissing the soft skin of her fingers, he let go, and she slipped away. He didn’t know much about women, but something was wrong. For the past few months, Hillary had been making intimations that perhaps it was time for another child, but she’d stopped in recent weeks. Dixon didn’t understand it, but women somehow intuitively knew when their biological clocks were ticking down. The window of having more kids, for her, was closing.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Ethan. You at the precinct?”

  “Not yet.”

  “We still partners?”

  “I’m eating breakfast with my family right now. Can this wait?”

  “When you’re done, meet me at the coroner’s office. He’s got the preliminary ready for us.”

  Dixon hung up and stared at the phone. Then he slipped it back into his pocket. It hadn’t been a request. Baudin had just told him where to be as though he were his boss. Maybe he’d be better off alone again after all.

  “Who was that?” Hillary asked.

  “New partner,” he said, rising and kissing his boy on the cheek. “Gotta run.” He grabbed a piece of toast out of the toaster, kissed her quickly on the lips, and was out the door.

  The coroner’s office was next to the county fairgrounds with nothing else but a few government buildings nearby. As Dixon drove, he again got that feeling of being on a different planet. He wondered if somewhere out in the universe, another creature was looking at a deserted stretch of nothing on its own planet with the same feeling.

  He pulled up to the government complex and saw Baudin sitting on the trunk of his car, doing something on his cell phone. He wore a red shirt with a black tie today, looking like some sinister preacher. Dixon got out of the car and scanned the area.

  “They should develop this land,” he said, a cloud of dust swirling over him.

  “Why? The world need more strip malls and movie theaters?”

  “Be better than dirt.”

  Baudin hopped off the trunk, and they entered the building. The doors were open, but there was no receptionist at the front counter. Down a long linoleum corridor, the sound of clanging metal
echoed, as though someone were moving pots and pans around. They headed in that direction.

  In a room off to the side, a man was stocking pans and trays on a shelf. He saw them and his eyes went wide. “Who are you?” he said.

  “Detective Kyle Dixon. Gil here?”

  “Oh,” he said, relieved. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s down in his office.”

  “Thanks.”

  Baudin followed him. Dixon had been to the office several times. It was, in his estimation, the worst office he’d ever been in. Tucked away in a corner with no windows, Gil was a hoarder. He didn’t call it that himself, but that was what it was. No paper with even a hint of importance was ever thrown away. No files were shredded. It meant his office was stacked from floor to ceiling with papers, trinkets, boxes and folders.

  “That man’s a junkie,” Baudin said. “We need to remember that if we ever need something Gil’s not giving us.”

  Dixon looked back at him. “How you know he’s a junkie?”

  “He had that droopy appearance, like his arms and shoulders were too heavy for him. And he was missing his shoelaces.”

  “So?”

  “So they use those to tie off injection sites.”

  Dixon shook his head. “No way, man. They test ’em here.”

  “Yeah? And who does the testing?”

  Gil’s office was overflowing with junk. Paper binders were now stacked outside of the office in the corridor. Dixon sighed as he stepped over them.

  Gil was behind his desk filling out a paper form with a pen. He looked up, and it seemed for a moment he didn’t recognize Dixon. Then a smile crept over his face, and he said, “Detective Dixon? So glad you chose to light our dreary day.”

  “Gil, you gotta clean some of this shit out, man. This isn’t healthy.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing’s healthy. You ready to see your gal?”

  They followed Gil down another corridor to the elevators. The old, creaking elevators jolted several times as though cables were snapping above them. Baudin didn’t seem to notice. He was studying Gil’s face.

  They stepped off in the basement, where the bodies were kept. Gil opened one of the old-style refrigeration units and pulled out the metal panel the body lay on.