The Competition

by Marcia Clark

  We had to trust him eventually. Bailey gave him the evil eye, but she left the electrical cord on the kitchen counter. “Here’s the plan, Shane. You’re going to set up a meeting with Jax. Tell him you’ve got a big buyer on the line who needs guns yesterday—”

  “Won’t work. He doesn’t give a shit about the guns. He only cares about a buyer for the drugs. Jax won’t move off his couch unless I promise him a name.”

  “And where is Jax’s couch?” Bailey asked.

  “Ensenada.”

  “Where did you two meet when you did business with him?” I asked.

  “Usually Joshua Tree Park. He’s got family near there, I think.”

  That was within reasonable driving distance. “Tell Jax you’ve got a big drug buyer on the line for him, but he needs to move now. The guy wants his product by tomorrow. Then you tell him you need to get a couple of AKs for someone, and you need them by tonight—”

  “Tonight? There’s no way—”

  “Trust me, there is. But make it late. Around midnight. And set the meeting for Riverside. Got it?”

  Shane swallowed hard, but reluctantly nodded. I pressed the number for Jax and held the phone to his ear. The conversation was short and sweet. Jax gave him a little grief about the short notice, but he eventually capitulated. The meeting was set for one a.m. at their usual meeting place in Joshua Tree National Park.

  Todd squinted at Shane. “Where in Joshua Tree? That place is a ginormous desert.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Shane said. “I’ll get us there.”

  But I knew that’s not what Todd was worried about. Joshua Tree was flat and wide-open. Finding a way to hide our backup was going to be a problem. I nodded at Todd. “We’ll see what it looks like, and if we don’t like it, we’ll suggest a change of plan. We’ve got his cell.”

  Shane took a deep breath and exhaled as he closed his eyes. “Jax might bail on you if you change the meeting place at the last minute.”

  I had a feeling about Jax and his business with Shane. “I don’t think he will. Let’s get going.”

  We raided the kitchen for water, soda, and snacks, left some money for Max to pay for it all, then packed up Shane’s belongings and piled into Todd’s car, a black Camry. Todd volunteered to ride in back with Shane. It wasn’t until we were heading south on the Pacific Coast Highway that I remembered to ask what had happened to Max.

  “I called my partner and told him to keep a close watch on Max,” Todd said. “I’m betting he didn’t know Shane was on the run—”

  “He didn’t,” Shane said.

  “—but we’ll hang on to him until we know for sure.”

  The sun hung low on the horizon, and the burnt-orange rays spread across the ocean, giving the water a warm glow. We were all tired and for a while we rode in silence.

  Shane cleared his throat. “Uh, Ms…what did you say your name was again?”

  “Rachel Knight.”

  “Right. Mind if I ask you a question?” I shook my head. “You seemed pretty sure Jax wouldn’t get pissed off about a change of plan. How come?”

  “Did you ever wonder where Jax was getting all those guns, and all that dope?”

  “Not really.”

  “So you didn’t think it was strange that this guy leans on you to get him connects to sell drugs?” Shane shrugged. “Look, no offense, but you don’t exactly seem the drug kingpin type. I mean, you guys only hooked up because you knew how to fix guns, right?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “It’s just a guess, but I think your buddy works for a cartel and he’s skimming. It’s probably a big enough operation that whatever he’s taking—drugs, guns—hasn’t been missed. At least, not yet. But he can’t let that stuff hang around. He’s got to move it fast. So he needs you every bit as much as you need him. Maybe more.”

  Shane was silent for a few moments. “Man, if you’re right, he’s out of his friggin’ mind.”

  No argument there. I got on the phone and coordinated with Luis. We’d stop in Sylmar so he and his crew could follow us. I told him the meeting place was in Joshua Tree and that it might be hard to find cover.

  “We know what we’re doin’,” Luis said. “You jes’ worry ’bout you.”

  His certainty was comforting. Sort of.

  I had just ended the call when Bailey’s cell rang. “Want me to get it for you?” I asked.

  “Check who it is first.”

  It was Harrellson.

  “Take it.”

  “Hey, Skipper.”

  “I told you never to call me that,” he said.

  “I forgot.”

  His parents named him Skipper Don Harrellson. He tried to keep it a secret, but cops are always on the lookout for needling material, and this one was low-hanging fruit.

  “They just found a body out in Box Canyon,” he said. Box Canyon was west of Chatsworth in a remote corner of the San Fernando Valley. Charles Manson once freeloaded off a religious cult there. “Young white male, approximately sixteen years of age.”

  A lead weight dropped to the pit of my stomach. “Evan?”

  “That’s what they thought, but…I’ll get back to you when I know more. I’m on my way out there. You’ll let Bailey know.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sorry, Knight. I’ll be in touch as soon as I know more.”

  60

  I whispered the news to Bailey. She gripped the steering wheel but said nothing for several moments. When she spoke, her voice was tight. “Do we know what happened?”

  “No. Harrellson wasn’t about to say anything on the phone. But it might’ve just been an accident. He could’ve fallen, been hit by a car.”

  “Be a hell of a coincidence, though, wouldn’t it?” I didn’t need to answer. Neither of us believed in them. “How do you think Logan found him?”

  “No clue,” I said. “But we know Evan hasn’t been using his cell phone—”

  “Probably bought a burner. But I just don’t see him reaching out to Logan.”

  I didn’t either. And I didn’t know how else Logan would find him. In a city as vast as Los Angeles—hell, even in the Valley—it’s pretty hard to run into someone who’s trying to run away. I couldn’t figure this one out with what little information we had. And for all we knew, it might not be Evan at all. I held on to that hope and turned back to the matter at hand.

  The traffic got heavy when we hit Thousand Oaks, and we didn’t reach our meeting place in Sylmar until almost nine at night. Subtlety wasn’t Luis’s style when it came to cars, so I scanned the street for glitter and shiny chrome. Nothing like that was parked on either side of the block. I called Luis. “Hey, we’re here. What street are you on?”

  Luis chuckled. “You jes’ rolled right by us. Turn around.” I did, and saw a dark blue, nondescript sedan flash its headlights.

  What was I thinking? Of course he was smart enough to know when he needed to keep a low profile. It’s how he stayed out of prison. I put my hand out the window to give a thumbs-up.

  Luis gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’ do that no more.”

  When we got back on the freeway, the traffic had eased up considerably. We had smooth sailing all the way down to Riverside and pulled into the Joshua Tree National Park by midnight. The abrupt shift from all the lights, noise, and motion to pitch-black desert was stunning.

  The air felt hushed. Huge rock formations stood out against the black night, and the sky was thick with stars usually hidden by the lights of civilization. Barren, blanketed with the cacti that gave the park its name, Joshua Tree Park stretched out for miles before us. It had an austere beauty, but it conveyed a sense of isolation that made it feel as if we were the last survivors of a nuclear holocaust.

  Bailey pulled over to the side of the road just outside the entrance and turned toward the backseat. “Where exactly is your meeting place?”

  “It’s about two miles in, over there.” He gestured with his chin—since he was still handcuffed—to the right sid
e of the park.

  The area was bordered by rocky hills that had a sparse covering of withered-looking trees. Plenty of hiding space for Luis and company. So far, so good. I called Luis and told him where we were headed.

  “Good,” he said. “Now don’ call me no more. And don’ worry. I got this.”

  I was about to meet with a gunrunner/drug dealer who was probably an errant cartel member, and my backup was a car full of gangbangers who probably had a bigger arsenal than he did. What on earth could I be worried about?

  “Probably best if we uncuff this guy and let him ride up front now,” Bailey said.

  This was where we knew everything could go south on us. We had to let Shane out, find a place to hide, then hope he’d do his part. The only thing that gave me confidence was the fact that Shane was more afraid of Luis than of us. Todd didn’t love the plan, but he hadn’t been able to come up with anything better. He reluctantly uncuffed Shane, and I got out to trade places with him.

  Shane rubbed his wrists. “Man those things hurt.” Todd pulled him out of the car, and he swung his arms and stretched before Todd pushed him toward the front seat. “Hey,” Shane said. “Gimme a sec, here. I gotta loosen up for the big play.”

  Todd had zero patience for Shane’s plight. “Move it, Lefty, we don’t have all night.”

  Shane slid into the front seat, and Bailey drove slowly down the dark road. Shane leaned back and studied the scenery. But after a couple of minutes, he sat up and began to rub his hands on his thighs. It was cold, probably no more than forty-five degrees at most, but the moonlight revealed beads of sweat gleaming on his forehead. Shane cleared his throat and pointed to a small body of water to our left that was just below an outcropping of rocks. Perfect cover for Luis and us. Unfortunately, also for whoever might have tagged along with Jax.

  Bailey parked facing away from the outcropping and left the headlights on. It was so dark out there you could barely see your own hand. We climbed up and hid behind the nearest grouping of rocks. Shane sat in the driver’s seat—sans keys, of course. We had a good half hour before Jax was due. I pulled out my cell to see if I could get any signal. Only two bars, but it was better than nothing. I could probably reach Luis if I had to, and if things got bad enough, I’d just yell.

  Todd looked over my shoulder. “You playing Angry Birds?”

  “Gotta keep my score up. Or…whatever people do.”

  “Not my thing either—”

  Bailey, who’d planted herself just ahead of us, turned back. “Shut up. Both of you.”

  I wanted to call Shane—we’d given him Bailey’s cell—just to do a test run, but at that moment, I noticed a moving dust cloud to the left of the outcropping where we hid. Then I heard the engine. A black Escalade came into view. Jax had arrived. He pulled up next to Todd’s car, peered in through the passenger window at Shane, and got out. I couldn’t make out a lot of detail in the darkness, but Jax looked to be in his fifties, about six feet tall and paunchy, in a black leather jacket and khakis. As instructed, Shane walked around to the front of the car and stopped. If Jax joined him there, we’d hear every word. Shane fished a cigarette out of his shirt pocket, leaned back against the hood, and asked Jax for a light.

  Jax sauntered over and flicked his lighter. “Got another one?”

  “What? You can’t buy your own?”

  “Wife’s trying to get me to quit.” Jax shook his head. “S’only been two days and I’m goin’ crazy.”

  Shane shook his head and chuckled, then pulled out another cigarette and gave it to him.

  Jax leaned back against the car next to Shane, took a deep, appreciative drag, and blew it out. “So what you got for me?”

  “Big name. This guy’s serious. Needs five kilos of yayo.”

  “By tomorrow morning?” Shane nodded. Jax shook his head. “I can’t get that much. Not that fast. Get him to take two.”

  Now I was more convinced than ever that Jax was skimming. Five kilos was big, but not that big. Shane shrugged. “Do what I can. You got the AKs for me?”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  This was it. Time to pop the question. Shane took another drag of his cigarette. “Say, you remember that guy I brought with me last time?”

  I stopped breathing. Jax paused, flicked the ashes from his cigarette. “Tall, skinny güero in the shades?”

  Shane nodded. “That’s him. You see him lately?”

  “Nah. Ain’t seen him since that day he came with you.”

  How could that be? Shane said he only sold Logan two AKs. So how could Logan have gotten hold of the other two they’d used in the theater shooting? Unless Logan had a second gun connection?

  Shane was working it pretty well, but I could hear the strain in his voice. I prayed Jax wouldn’t. “Reason I’m asking is he told me he needed to get in touch with you, and I gave him your number.”

  Smart. Shane was putting Jax at ease in case he thought Shane was pissed off for meeting behind Shane’s back.

  “No, I din’t see that guy. But I did run into a buddy of his.” Jax pushed off the car and turned toward the Escalade.

  “No shit. When was that?”

  “Three, maybe four days ago?” Jax took one last drag, then threw the cigarette down and crushed it under his boot. I appreciated the fact that he observed fire safety measures. “I was visiting family, had a bunch of product left over ’cuz another dude stiffed me. Din’t want to take it back over the border. So when the kid called me, said he needed a couple AKs and a forty-four, I figured, what the hell? Green’s green, you know?”

  “Hell, yeah. But I just need to know, he was a young dude, right?” Shane asked. “I want to make sure it’s the right guy. ’Cuz if it is, he owes me for the connect.”

  Jax started to move toward the Escalade. “Shit, I don’t know. He seemed like maybe twenties. Told me that tall, skinny guy who’s your buddy sent him. Loman…Lofin—”

  “Logan?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah, that’s it. And the dude gave me your name, too, bro’.”

  “Huh. Dude give you his name?”

  Jax stopped and turned back to Shane. “Said it was…Tim…Timothy something. Don’t remember the last name. What’s up, man?” Jax peered at Shane. “You telling me you don’t know the dude?”

  Timothy? I racked my brain, but as far as I knew, the case hadn’t turned up any Timothys.

  Shane threw down his cigarette and ground it out. “Probably a phony name. I don’t know any Timothys. What’d he look like?”

  “Fuck,” Jax said. “I don’t know. Kind of medium. Not tall like that other dude.”

  “What about his hair?”

  Jax stiffened. “Man, I don’ know. Dude wore, like, a baseball cap and shades.” He peered at Shane. “What’s with all the questions?”

  Shane was doing a hell of a nice of job of this, but Jax was getting suspicious. And pissed. If Shane didn’t pull the plug soon, this could turn very ugly, very fast. There was a trunkload of weapons in that Escalade, and Jax was just steps away from it.

  “Just making sure who it is, ’cause the dude owes me, and now it looks like he’s in the wind. I don’t put up with assholes like that. You got any plans to meet up with him again?”

  “No.” Jax was getting edgier and edgier.

  “You remember his ride? ’Cause I find this guy, I’m gonna fuck it up.”

  Jax stubbed the ground with the toe of his boot. “Some old junker. Chevy, I think.” He turned back and moved toward the rear door of the Escalade. Shane needed to get out of this fast and let us take over. Before Jax put his hands on the guns. “Let’s get this done. I got to be someplace.”

  Jax opened the rear door. This was it. I pushed Luis’s cell number and punched in 5—our code to move in fast. Within seconds, Jax was surrounded by three of the biggest-, meanest-looking Hispanic guys I’d ever seen, plus Luis. And all of them were pointing nine millimeters. I thought I recognized one of the guys from my kidnapping, but it might’ve ju
st been the size. And did I mention the meanness?

  Jax raised his hands high into the air, and I noticed they were shaking. Then I saw a stain spread around the crotch of his pants. Bad day to wear khakis. He looked at Luis, and in a trembling voice, asked, “Who the fuck are you?”

  Luis smiled. “Friend of a friend.”

  Jax’s eyes were wide with fear. “Carlos?”

  Bailey, Todd, and I stepped out from behind the rocks with our guns drawn, Bailey in the lead. “No,” she said. She whipped out her badge and it flashed in the moonlight. “Police. You’re under arrest.”

  Jax dropped to his knees, hands still high in the air, and sobbed. “Oh, Dios mío, thank God.”

  61

  While Todd put in a call to the local police, I walked Luis and company to their car.

  “You guys were perfect, Luis,” I said. “Thanks.”

  He blew out a disgusted breath. “For what? We din’t do nuthin.’” He muttered to himself. “Shit—anything.”

  I shoved a couple of twenties through the driver’s window. He looked at the bills with disdain. “What’s that for?”

  “Gas money. It’s only fair.”

  Luis started to push it away, but a voice from the back protested. “Luis, I’m kinda low…”

  Luis rolled his eyes, took the cash, and passed it to the backseat. He tilted his head and squinted at me. “Try an’ stay out of trouble,” he said. “I can’t always be here to watch your back, you know.” He peeled out, leaving me in a cloud of dust.

  I was still coughing when Bailey walked over to me. “All set.” Jax was bent over the hood of Bailey’s car, hands cuffed behind his back. Shane was in the backseat of Bailey’s car, facing out with the door open. He was cuffed too. Todd was holding a cigarette to his lips, giving him one last smoke.

  “We can go over everything with Jax again when we get to the station,” Bailey said. “But I have a feeling our buddy Shane got all he has to give.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Shane did a nice job. Sounds like Jax met with our second shooter, but good luck figuring out who that is. That description could fit about five million guys.”