by Trish Reeb
In Cole's professional opinion, Foxworth Apartments served as a front for prostitution, voyeurism, and human bondage. Even though the place had been deserted, people evacuated, fingerprints wiped clean, and records destroyed or removed, he'd found enough to suspect an unlawful agenda. The illegal operation had prepared in advance, possibly conducting drills in case of infiltration. Cole only had circumstantial evidence but he would get the proof he needed or die trying. Martindale had already begun digging into the property rights to the building.
There’d been no urgency to interrogate Alex after consulting Officer Drew. Blindfolded, she hadn’t seen anything to unravel the mystery behind the crime scene. God, she could have gotten herself killed. What had that girl been thinking? As usual, she hadn’t.
After Mercedes had been admitted to Detroit Receiving Hospital, Cole assigned guards around the clock to keep watch. Once discharged, she'd be placed into protective custody if Lieutenant Lucas approved. A long shot, unfortunately. Overdue for a sit-down, they needed to discuss the case anyway. Thus far, his boss had given him free rein. Fortunately for him, Lucas didn't believe in micromanaging Cole's every move—the exact opposite of his last superior officer. When that bastard transferred to another precinct, the entire department turned out to celebrate at their favorite watering hole.
Why Mercedes and Alex had been allowed to live gnawed at his mental processing of the case. Either someone screwed up or Morgan had been ordered to do the deed and ran out of time. A third possibility: in an attempt at redemption, she’d bucked the system by leaving them alive. The bottom line, someone much higher in the pecking order had ordered the hit on Morgan, shooting her down like a sitting hen.
Lucas, as expected, nixed the plan for protective custody. Though in favor of the precaution, he had no funds to allocate. Once discharged from the hospital, Mercedes' security would be suspended, leaving Cole on his own to keep his witness alive. Lucas’s last words, "Remember, the Chief wanted a resolution yesterday," didn’t change a thing. He'd feel the pressure whether assigned to a high profile case or not. For Cole, the urgency came from within.
He needed a place to hide Mercedes for a few days and fast. Scheduled to be released tomorrow, she could be discharged tonight if he nailed down the location. Running through the short list of possibilities, he snapped his fingers. Perfect.
*
Alex decided to only work a half day. She had a follow-up doctor’s appointment in the afternoon and needed to pack for her trip to Atlanta. Sheila Humbarger offered to accompany her to Taryn’s funeral and planned to pick her up early in the morning. Tempted to take off the entire day, Alex's conscience wouldn’t allow it even though when at work her mind had its own agenda.
The halls buzzed with news of Martindale’s arrest, Morgan’s death, and speculation about the goings-on at Foxworth Apartments. Alex didn't feel sorry for Morgan. Not after what she’d put Mercedes and her through. Would Martindale be released now that the case had switched directions? Cole had to acknowledge his innocence. Cole. She still hadn’t heard from him. Was he angry at her for stirring the pot? He should be calling to thank her. Okay, so she’d disobeyed his orders. Get over it. She pushed thoughts of him aside in favor of her job.
After two solid hours of productivity, Alex took a break when Bobbi dropped by.
"Doesn’t look like you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown to me."
Alex stood up to greet her. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
Bobbi examined her closely. "You wouldn’t believe what people are saying."
"Try me."
She laughed. "Someone nuked your cat."
Alex’s gut clenched. They know about Sami? She skirted around the desk and started pacing. "What a lowlife."
"It’s true?"
Alex stopped, nodded.
"And you know who did it?" Bobbi asked.
She shook her head and sank into a chair. "It’s complicated."
Bobbi perched on the other, reaching out to hug her. "Sid or Sami?" she asked softly.
"Sami," Alex said, talking around the lump in her throat.
"Poor Sami." Bobbi tightened her embrace. "Why didn’t you tell me?" she asked, dropping her arms.
"I couldn’t," she swallowed, "talk about it."
"You poor thing."
She raised a hand. "Don’t."
"Sorry." Bobbi leaned back in the chair silent for a moment. "Sweetie, I didn’t mean—"
"I know. It’s okay." Alex patted her arm. "I’m glad you told me," she paused, "about the scuttlebutt. Now I understand the looks I’ve been getting." She smiled. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Being my friend."
"‘In prosperity, our friends know us. In adversity, we know our friends,’" Bobbi quoted.
They smiled.
"Hey, I heard something today you ought to know."
"I’m all ears," Alex said.
"Someone’s pushing Ecstasy on our kids."
"Oh, God, no. That stuff’s brutal. Last year I attended an inservice. They said it's happening mostly in the suburbs."
"Looks like it spilled over into the city." Bobbi glanced at her watch. "Oops, gotta get to class. Call me when you return from Atlanta. Be safe. My thoughts and prayers will be with you." She left. Alex sat in her chair, contemplating.
At least it explained why her colleagues had been distant lately. Nice. Instead of coming to her and asking how she fared, they talked behind her back. The monster that killed Sami circulated the rumor. It had to be him. For what? To sour people against her? Make her seem like a loser on the verge of a meltdown? It still didn’t explain the reason. Well, he’d failed. She hadn't cracked up. I'm okay. No matter what, he couldn’t break her.
She stood and stretched. One more hour and she could leave. She had just enough time to check on the homework assignments for Arjay. After a quick visit to the main office, she found only half the teachers complied. She understood they had a lot on their plates, but Arjay needed to stay on top of his schoolwork in order to graduate. Winter break next week would be the perfect time for him to catch up.
Inside her mailbox, Alex found a note indicating a package awaited her in the adjacent storeroom. She opened the door. A square-shaped box with her name on it sat on top of the pile. Though it appeared innocent enough, she tensed. Who had left it? Someone with good or evil in his heart? Scooping it up, she carried it back to her room and closed the door. Hands trembling a bit, she tore off the paper and lifted the top. White tissue paper hid the contents. She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and parted the paper. Aw-w, how sweet! A yellow teddy bear lay nestled inside the box. She lifted it out, searching for a note, but found none. It had to be from Cole. She hugged the bear to her chest to recapture the feelings she experienced on Monday. Taryn are you there?
Before she left for the day, she sent a second request for homework to the three teachers who hadn’t gotten to it and went to talk to Keith, her friendlier suitemate. He agreed to follow up and even promised to drop the work off at Arjay's on his way home. What a godsend. Too bad more people didn't take after him.
Alex ambled out of the building and into light flurries. Weather reports predicted ten inches by morning. She yanked her hood up and headed to the car. Not much snow on it yet. A swipe of her wipers and help from the defogger on the back window would do the trick. She slid behind the wheel and hit the ignition. Crap. She exited the car and snatched the flier tucked under her windshield wiper. Back in the car, she tossed it on top of her belongings in the passenger seat. Thinking Ms. Cook left it to promote her cake decorating business, Alex backed out of the parking space and headed out.
Stopped at a light, she picked up the paper with thoughts of birthdays and weddings. She blinked in surprise. The notice advertised a rave for this Saturday night. A place where teens go to get high on Ex. According to the facilitator at the inservice it caused so much havoc on the body that weeks would pass before kids imbibed again. It didn’t sound l
ike much fun to her; but, in the rave party culture, they called Ex the love drug. Giving users a feeling of euphoria, community, and acceptance, she understood why kids would be attracted to it—especially teens deprived of those feelings their entire lives.
A car honked and she stepped on the gas.
CHAPTER 57
Cole reached his desk at the same time the phone rang.
"Detective Grant? Judith Foote."
The graphologist. "What’s the verdict?"
Following the conversation, he hung up and sat tapping a pencil on his desk pad. The inconclusive report on Jada’s suicide note provided no proof of foul play. He needed Darrel’s analysis of the autopsy report.
Time to talk to Martindale, see if he’d had better luck in his research. A half hour later, they met in an interrogation room.
"According to county records, Pallex Incorporated, owns the building. They bought it when First Stop, a shelter for runaways, rented the place. After the organization closed its doors two years ago, the building stood vacant for six months until the renovation wrapped up over a year ago. I searched for the name of the parent company but hit a brick wall." Martindale shoved his notes over to Cole. "Don’t worry. Someone's working on it while we speak."
"You read any of Sun Tzu?" Cole asked.
Martindale rummaged through his bag on the floor and laid Art of War on the table.
Cole opened his book in front of him to the notes tucked inside. "This is hypothetical, but see if it makes sense to you. Redd Dog forms an army of Lincoln High misfits. You know, kids seeking to belong and find a purpose." He consulted his notes. "At first, he woos them, wins their loyalty. Gradually, he begins to dole out punishment to anyone disobeying the rules of engagement." He raised his eyes. "That's why none of the soldiers, quote unquote, defied the order to halt Arjay’s beating. They understood the consequences." Running his finger down a page in the book, he stopped and read, "Each is a subordinate to the superior and controls the inferior." Cole leaned back. "He selects the strongest to be superior officers and the weakest as their underlings. There’s a chain of command like in any military operation and he’s top dog, the Master Conqueror."
Martindale nodded. "About what I surmised." He paused, as if reflecting. "Enter Alex. The enemy."
"I see where you’re going."
Martindale read, "A smart commander ‘breaks up the enemy’s alliances.’ Rumors about Alex are spreading like a venereal disease. She’s emotionally unstable. She lost her best friend, her cat. She's paranoid."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. That’s not all. She hears and sees things."
"To cast doubt on anything she might say relative to the case."
"Right." Martindale glanced at a page in the book. "Tzu says here that isolating and demoralizing the enemy breaks his will to resist."
"In other words, Redd Dog wants to stop her pursuit," Cole said. "Well, so far, he hasn’t been any more successful than I have."
*
Alex received clearance from her doctor to travel to Atlanta. Not that it mattered. She'd cut out her heart before she'd miss Taryn’s funeral. All packed and ready to go, she climbed into bed. No word from Cole. He might have at least called to check on her. Not even close to sleepy, she propped her pillow on the headboard and sat up.
Before her doctor appointment, she visited Mercedes in the hospital. The girl’s distorted features made Alex see red. What she made up her mind to do afterward generated from an entirely different place. Knowing she reached the right decision, she had no regrets.
Now, her mind shifted to what had been bugging her about last night. If she could put her finger on it, she would have a reason to call Cole. She let her mind drift back to the moment when Officer Drew removed the hood. Alex had sniffed the fresh air tinged with something. Perfume. She could smell it now—a familiar fragrance. The scent of someone she knew. Who? She ran through her mental file of the women in her life. Not Bobbi. Not Sheila. She discounted her hairdresser, manicurist, and . . .wait, it made sense to stick to those from work. Isn’t that where it all began? She scrolled through the faces of her female colleagues.
Got it.
She grabbed her cell off the bedside stand and hit nine. She left a voicemail when Cole didn't answer. "I know who," she swallowed hard, "molested me."
*
Cole hadn’t been able to reach Darrel Mathis until late evening to make arrangements for Mercedes to stay at his place. By the time he arrived at the hospital ready to take her to his friend’s, she'd disappeared. He stared at the empty hospital bed whose only function now served as a reminder of his failure to protect a vulnerable girl. The rumpled sheets and blankets were as messed up as his case. Dammit.
Ten murders had swamped the city. Lucas ousted Officer Brandon from the hospital watch because he needed her elsewhere. Shortly after, Mercedes disappeared. She’d either been aided by an ally or kidnapped by someone coveting her silence. He tended to doubt the latter. Killing her in bed seemed more probable than trying to take an unwilling hostage. He had questioned every staff member on duty and no one had seen anyone enter the room or the girl leave. Of course, they weren't to blame since none of them had been asked to keep watch.
Alex’s message came in while Cole attempted to calm Mrs. Lewis by phone after giving her the news. Having seen the oxygen tank she towed around like a pull toy when he visited Mercedes earlier, he worried about upsetting her. He promised to call as soon as he located her granddaughter. No, he didn’t know when that would be. Or if he'd find her dead or alive. Though he didn’t say it aloud, he figured Mrs. Lewis probably feared the same thing. After finally listening to Alex’s voicemail, he dashed out of the hospital off on a possible wild goose chase.
Rush hour traffic had ceased hours ago. He breezed along unclogged streets over to the Lodge Expressway and motored toward Farmington Hills. No sign of the predicted snowfall yet. In less than thirty-five minutes, he turned into the condominium complex. Driving slowly through the winding narrow streets, he studied the numbers on each building. A small woman bundled against the crisp night air walked a large German shepherd. He couldn't imagine sharing the confined space of an apartment with a canine the size of a horse.
He rolled into a parking space in front of building five. Cutting the engine, he used a minute to ponder how he wanted the visit to play out. He certainly couldn’t arrest the woman based on Alex’s olfactory senses. This would be a fishing expedition, like it or not. But his quarry didn't have to know his objective. Each apartment had its own entry, meaning an intercom wouldn't spoil the element of surprise.
He knocked on the door.
Several seconds later the door opened. "I’m almost . . . ." A woman stared at him. "Why, you ain’t . . . ." Her words were in a slow southern drawl.
In skin tight jeans and low-cut siren-red filmy top showing off a large bosom, the woman sent him a leisurely sexy smile. She brushed a curly strand of her rebellious white hair off her forehead and laughed—the kind that erupted from deep in the belly. "Look like you seen a ghost, sugar."
She offered her hand. "Hi, I’m Billy Jo," she said, clasping Cole’s. "Oh, my goodness, where're my manners? Come on in." She stepped back from the door, sweeping her arm into the room. "Bet you after for my sister Mary." She pouted. "Too bad."
Cole introduced himself. "Is she here?"
"Afraid you missed her. Gone for the night and ain’t ’spectin’ her back until the wee hours." She raised a hand, her thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart.
Studying her, Cole said, "I see a strong family resemblance."
Again, she laughed.
"You live here?"
She waved a hand at him. "Nah, just visiting." She awarded him a coy look. "How can I help you?"
"Wouldn’t happen to know where she went."
"Sorry, no." She shook her head of curls.
"Would you ask her to call me?"
"Sure, sugar." Billy Jo flashed him a big smile. "She got your
number?"
He dug into his shirt pocket for a business card and handed it to her.
"Til we meet again," she said, winking.
Trotting back to his car, Cole figured Billy Jo had already gotten on the phone.
What would Mary Winter, if she were guilty of assaulting Alex, do when she found out he’d paid her a visit? Figuring it hadn't been any social call, she might contact him out of curiosity to find out what he knew. Or go underground. For the next half hour, he staked out the apartment waiting to see if anyone showed. Either the person she’d been expecting had been warned off or Billie Jo had been stood up.
PART III
CHAPTER 58
Friday, February 16
Penny-size snowflakes had just begun to fall when Sheila Humbarger collected Alex at six-thirty in the morning. Although local weather reports had hyped a blizzard since yesterday, only a dusting covered the ground thus far. Except for Detroit and a handful of others, most school districts in the metro area had already closed their doors for the day.
Alex flipped the hood of her coat over her head, ignoring the hot prickly needles running through her body. Her heart galloping and hands trembling, she dragged her suitcase behind her to the PT Cruiser.
"I’ll take that. You get in the car," Sheila said.
"I can get it." Alex pushed the handle of her suitcase down and snapped it into place.
They each picked up an end and heaved the suitcase onto the lip of the trunk.
Sheila grunted. "What’d you pack? Your entire wardrobe? We’ll only be gone overnight."
"I need choices."
Sheila smiled. "That’s my Alex." She hugged her. "Girl, you’re shaking like a wet pup. Get into the car."
Alex slipped inside and slammed the door. By the time Sheila closed the trunk and slid into the driver’s seat the anxiety had receded. She loathed her reaction when caught outside on a snowy night or, as in this case, morning. Recognizing it for irrational didn’t help. Inside, she was nine again, waking up—cold, alone, scared—in her backyard, her bare feet stinging and flakes the size of quarters falling from the inky sky. Crying, shivering, and panicked, she stumbled along in the wrong direction. When she reached the apple orchard, the trees loomed like monsters with dozens of arms trying to grab her. She'd screamed. Turning, she stared into the snowy darkness. Frozen and frightened, she trudged through the snow, hoping to find her way back. Up ahead a light appeared in the house guiding her home. Her family greeted her at the back door. Dad held the baseball bat he kept under the bed in case of intruders. Her brothers, Matt and Greg, pointed and snickered at the snowflakes covering the top of her head. And her mother, seven months pregnant, pulled her close. Hours passed before she stopped shuddering and wanted to venture out from under a mountain of covers. Never once considering her feelings, her family laughed hysterically whenever they talked of the night she'd sleepwalked. The experience had left its mark, reeking havoc where havoc need not be. Alex didn't find it very amusing.