Come Find Me

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Come Find Me Page 10

by Casper Valentine


  "I found it and was trying to figure out what it is," Nate said.

  The man picked up the medallion and examined it. "The only thing I know for sure is this pattern in the middle is the Armenian symbol for infinity. Wheel of eternity, I think they call it," the man told Nate.

  Nate couldn't believe what he heard. "Armenian?" he asked.

  The man laid it down. "I think the star represents craftsmanship. I don't think it's anything special. I could only give you what the value of the weight in gold is," the man said.

  Nate grabbed it and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "I'll hang on to it."

  "Stop back if you change your mind."

  "Thank you," Nate said, as he turned and walked out.

  He got in the Charger and slammed the door. Confused, he could think of no possible way that Ruby's disappearance could be linked to the Armenians.

  •••

  "Boniva!" Boyd screamed, rushing toward her. Seeing her passed out on the couch was nothing new. It was the empty pill and gin bottles causing his panic. "Come on, Boniva, wake up!" he yelled as he leaned over and gave her a shake.

  Boniva was unresponsive. Her eyes were rolled back, and a string of vomit dangled from her lips.

  Boyd rushed for his phone and called 911.

  After explaining the situation, he stayed by Boniva's side until two medics arrived.

  "It's an overdose, use the Narcan to bring her back to life," Boyd said, his voice stern.

  One of the medics picked up the empty pill bottle. "I'm sorry, Xanax is a benzodiazepine. Narcan is only administered for opioids.”

  The other medic bent over Boniva and put two fingers to her wrist. "She has a pulse, but it's weak," he said.

  "Can you save her?" Boyd asked.

  "We'll try to get her stabilized, but we need to get her to the hospital quickly," one medic said, while the other started an IV. "If she regains consciousness, they may want to pump her stomach. Do you know how long she's been out?" he asked.

  Boyd shook his head. "I don't know. I've been gone all day and just got home."

  “What’s her name?”

  “Boniva.”

  "We'll do everything we can. Is she your daughter?" the medic asked as they moved her to a stretcher.

  Boyd shook his head. “No, but she’s like a daughter. Please help her,” he said, and watched them carry Boniva out.

  •••

  Nate was on the I75 exit ramp to downtown when he got the call from Boyd.

  After hearing the news, he stomped the gas pedal and hit the Charger's flashing police light. The downtown streets were congested, and after blowing through a red light, he let off the gas to avoid traffic and pedestrians.

  Once Nate hit ML King Boulevard, he was out of the business district and back on the gas pedal and racing toward the hospital.

  Nate leaned forward and used his left hand to grab a bottle of whiskey that was stashed under the seat. The numbing effect of alcohol was, at this point, the only thing keeping him going.

  He only took his eyes away from the road for a moment, but his car was off the road. He jerked the wheel and sent the Charger skidding out of control.

  When Nate's car slammed into a telephone pole, it felt like a bomb was exploding, blowing out the windshield and sending shards of razor-sharp glass that dug into his face.

  Then, for a few moments, everything was silent, until his brain could rationalize the impulse to react and hear again.

  •••

  Sarge watched Scarecrow shove the drug dealer's face into the hood of the black Crown Vic. "Got anything that's going to stick me, asshole?" Scarecrow asked. After the dealer shook his head, Scarecrow dug a baggie of white powder out of his pocket. "What do we have here?"

  Sarge was watching Scarecrow pull a wad of cash out of the dealer's other pocket when his phone rang. "Sarge," he said when he put the phone to his ear.

  "It's Officer Flint Boyle," said the voice on the other end.

  "What do you want, Officer Flint Boyle? I'm kind of busy."

  "I'm with one of your officers, Nate Randolph."

  "Yeah, what's going on?" Sarge asked.

  "He crashed his car into a pole over on ML King. He's just banged up, but his car is crushed, and he reeks of alcohol," Flint said.

  "Shit, I'll be right there," Sarge replied. He disconnected and shoved the phone in his jacket. "Cut this guy loose—we need to go." He motioned at Scarecrow.

  Scarecrow knew better than to question Sarge. "It's your lucky day, asshole," he said as he uncuffed the dealer.

  "It's Nate. He crashed his car and he's liquored up," Sarge said as they got in the black unmarked.

  "He hurt?" Scarecrow asked.

  "Just banged up."

  "He's been acting strange lately," Scarecrow said.

  "Maybe this is too much for him. Dealing with the Armenians, Bandido bikers. Not everyone is cut out for this shit," Sarge said as he headed toward ML King Boulevard.

  •••

  Nate was standing at the back of his wrecked car, just getting his wits back, when Sarge and Scarecrow pulled up and squelched to a halt.

  Sarge hopped out of the black unmarked. "I got it from here, Flint."

  "Those are some nasty cuts. You OK, Nate?" Scarecrow asked, following Sarge.

  "I've had better days," Nate said, wincing from pain.

  “We should get you to a hospital,” Scarecrow said, offering Nate a handkerchief.

  Nate wiped the drying blood from his face. “No hospital. I just need to clean myself up. I’ll be fine.”

  Sarge moved in close enough to smell the booze on Nate's breath. "You’re so liquored up you crashed into a telephone pole? What the hell's going on?"

  "I said, I'm fine.”

  Scarecrow was standing over Sarge's shoulder. He shook his head. "I don't think you’re fine."

  Sarge put a hand on Nate's shoulder. "I hate to do this, Nate, but I think it's time to pull you out and shut things down. It’s too dangerous."

  "Please don't do that," Nate begged as a tow truck backed its way to the crashed car.

  "I have no choice unless you tell me what the fuck is going on," Sarge said.

  Nate spoke low. "It's my sister. She's missing, someone took her from her home."

  "Jesus Christ," Sarge said.

  "Damn, Nate, why didn't you tell us?" Scarecrow asked.

  Sarge raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised we didn’t hear about it.”

  "I asked them to keep a lid on it. I thought I had everything under control and would find her by now. Rosales knows everything. She's been helping me."

  "Get in the car, Nate," Sarge said, sticking a thumb toward the black unmarked, as the tow truck loaded what was left of the Charger.

  "I was on my way to the hospital," Nate said, following Sarge and Scarecrow.

  "The hospital?" Sarge asked.

  "A female friend of mine overdosed. It sounded pretty bad."

  "You have had a bad day," Sarge said as the men got in the unmarked.

  "Please don't make it any worse by pulling me and shutting this down. Besides my sister, this job is all I have. I never dreamed I could be an undercover agent, now here I am," Nate said from the backseat.

  Sarge looked at Scarecrow and shrugged. "All right, Nate. Fuck the Armenians, for now. We'll find your sister. Fill us in on everything."

  Nate gave Sarge and Scarecrow the details about Mick, Craig, and the strange man that followed Ruby to Dickies. He told them about the Junk Man rumor and the abandoned Highpoint house, as they drove to the hospital.

  •••

  Nate was sitting in a faded green fabric chair, staring blankly at a wall-mounted TV, the volume too low to make out words. A few cuts on his face were still trickling blood, and he looked more like a patient than a visitor.

  Sarge came back from the vending area and handed him a cup of coffee. "Drink this."

  Nate couldn't sit still. He took the coffee, stood up and started pacing
around the waiting room. Sarge and Scarecrow were the only people in the area.

  "Scarecrow and I are going to head out and poke around," Sarge said.

  Nate stopped pacing and shoved a hand into his faded jean pocket when Rosales walked in.

  "Keep an eye on him, Conejito, he's a wreck," Sarge said.

  "You got it," she said, forcing a half smile.

  "He told me about Ruby. You two should have come to us sooner. We'll find the bastards that took his sister one way or another," Sarge said.

  Rosales nodded and took a seat in one of the green fabric chairs.

  When Sarge and Scarecrow left, Nate sat next to Rosales.

  "You look like hell. Any word on her condition?" she asked.

  "I’m fine. Boniva is still critical."

  "I'm sorry," Rosales said softly.

  "I think I knew it was going to happen sooner or later."

  "So, you two were in a relationship?" Rosales asked.

  Nate ran his fingers through his spikey hair. "She's been in my life just about as long as I can remember."

  Rosales dug some tissues out of her pocket and handed them to Nate. "Are you in love with her?"

  "No," Nate said, without hesitation. "I mean, not like that," he added after a short pause.

  "I get it. Complicated."

  "Yes," Nate said, staring at the floor. He looked at Rosales when her phone buzzed and watched her check the message.

  Rosales looked up from her phone. "It's the crime lab. Those stains we lifted from the mattress are fairly new."

  Nate perked up. "How new?"

  Rosales looked back at her phone. "There's more. They think the stains are a little over thirty days old."

  Nate exhaled. "Too old for them to be from Ruby."

  "They're lifting DNA and want something to sample just to be safe."

  "I can get them something," Nate said, wiping his face.

  The door swung open and a man in a surgical gown stepped in. He made eye contact with Nate, spoke slowly and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I'm Dr. Patel. It was close for a while, but Boniva is stable. I believe she will pull through, but the next few hours should tell us more. She's resting now."

  Nate forced a smile. "Thanks, Doc."

  "I have some more news," Rosales said, when the doctor left the room.

  "Bad?" Nate asked.

  "No, it's good. I didn't want to say anything until you found out more about Boniva's condition. It's the Bandidos—they liked the purity of your H and they will be reaching out to you for another meeting. If you're not up to it—"

  Nate cut her off. "I got this."

  "Are you sure? You haven't been sleeping, the drinking. You did crash your car."

  Nate stood up straight. "I have my head back on straight. I'll find something with Ruby's DNA for the crime lab. I want to make sure all the findings get passed to missing persons. There's a connection to this Highpoint house. I’m sure of it."

  "I'm heading back to my office. I'll keep digging into Dorothy Jenkins," Rosales said.

  "Find some relatives if you can. I want to interview them. There has to be somebody," Nate said.

  "I'll let you know what I dig up. In the meantime, you should get some rest, Nate. Prepare for another meeting with the Bandidos. You have all of us helping with Ruby's case now."

  "Let's go. I can't stay here any longer," Nate said, and followed Rosales out of the waiting room.

  TWENTY-TWO

  October 9, 2015

  Nate leaned back in his chair and rested an elbow on the Bandidos’ table, trying to look as relaxed as possible. "I'm glad you're happy with the purity."

  The Bandido president Diego sat across from him, with his VP and sergeant at arms at his sides. "Not just happy, thrilled," Diego said. He leaned forward. "It's the purest H we've ever tested."

  "We can cut the hell out of this shit," the sergeant at arms added.

  "I'm going to get right to it. We want a whole lot more than the other nine kilos," Diego said.

  "Not a problem," Nate replied.

  "A lot more," the VP added.

  "Sure, how much?" Nate asked, looking at Diego for an answer.

  "At least fifty."

  "Wow, I might need a little time for that."

  "Of course, but we'll be able to move the ten pretty quick," Diego said.

  The VP sat forward. "We're getting out of the meth business completely."

  "What he means is don't let us down," the sergeant at arms added.

  "I won't. I'll be in contact as soon as I can deliver," Nate said, his palms starting to sweat.

  Diego smiled. "Then a celebration is in order. We're going to be close partners and I want to get to know you better, Nate. Head out to the bar and wet your whistle. We have some other club business to discuss, but I'll be out there shortly."

  Nate stood up and shook hands with each of the Bandidos before heading out of the room.

  When Nate entered the barroom, he was happy to see Maria having a drink, alone. Their last conversation left him full of questions.

  "Mind if I join you?" he said as he approached.

  "Well if it isn't the Irishman. Have a seat," she said, looking over her shoulder.

  Nate sat down and scooted close to Maria. "Do you ever get bored hanging around this place all the time?"

  Maria giggled. "This isn't all I do, Nate."

  "Tell me, Maria, what kind of hobbies do you have?"

  "I don't have much time for hobbies. Between taking care of things around here and school, I stay pretty busy."

  "School?"

  "Vet tech. I love animals," Maria replied. "Can we get some drinks over here?" she said, motioning to the bartender.

  "Me too. I like animals more than people," Nate said.

  "I wanted a puppy so bad when I was little. My mother always said we couldn't afford to feed and care for a dog, thanks to my deadbeat father. I think he was in jail most of the time."

  "Did you ever meet him?" Nate asked.

  Maria shook her head. The bartender put a beer in front of her and she immediately tossed back a huge gulp.

  As Nate took a couple drinks of his cold ale, he watched a bald man with a long beard sitting a few seats over. It didn't take Nate long to recognize it was one of the men he'd seen at his father's funeral. The crumpled suit was replaced by jeans and a flannel shirt, but he was sure of who it was. Nate leaned close to Maria's ear. "Who's that guy down a few seats? He's not wearing a Bandido cut," he whispered.

  "He's not in the MC. I don't know his real name. Everyone just calls him Al."

  Nate raised his eyebrows. "Al?"

  "It's short for alcohol. He takes care of supplying all the liquor here. Al's been around forever. He knew my father but refuses to tell me anything about him. Just says, I don't want to know."

  "Maybe that's for the best."

  "What little I know about him, I got from his only other friend, the one they call Kessler."

  Nate changed the subject to small talk as they finished off their drinks.

  •••

  Nate zipped up his jacket, then made the call to Ebony, while walking to his car.

  "Please tell me you have good news?" Ebony begged.

  "Not the best, but we have some leads, tied to an abandoned house in Highpoint."

  "Jesus."

  "I'm going to find her."

  "I know you are, Nate. She's still alive. I can feel it."

  "How's baby Keith?"

  "Good. He's smart, this one. I'm happy to be spending some time with him. I just wish it was under a different circumstance."

  "There's something I want to ask you," Nate said, after a brief pause.

  "You can ask me anything, Nate."

  "I met this girl, she's about Ruby's age. She knows a man who was at my father’s funeral. I think we may have the same father. She said he ran off right after her mother got pregnant."

  "Sounds about right. That's what he did to me. I know I wasn't
there for Ruby like I should have been. It's no excuse, but I was young and all alone."

  "It's OK, Ebony, Grandma raised us fine. The girl, her mother was Hispanic," Nate said, his free hand fishing car keys from his pocket.

  "She passed away?" Ebony asked.

  "Yes."

  "I have a suspicion of who it could be. It sounds like you might be right, Nate. That girl is more than likely your half-sister."

  Nate felt a flood of emotions and tried not to let it show in his voice. "Thanks, Ebony. You keep taking good care of Keith and I'll swing by when I can. Do you need anything?"

  "No, we're good here."

  "Call me if that changes," Nate said, before disconnecting the call and shoving the phone into his coat pocket.

  TWENTY-THREE

  October 11, 2015

  Ruby was lying on her belly at the bottom of the steps. Every bone in her body ached, and she could feel her chest pounding on the cold concrete floor. It had been at least eight hours since her last injection, and she was on the verge of vomiting.

  Finally, Ruby heard the upstairs door unlatch and could hear the creaking steps. She was ashamed that part of her wanted to give herself up, to get the drugs her body now needed, but she pictured her son's big brown eyes, and tried to control her breathing.

  When she could hear the final steps crack under Animal’s feet, she tensed up and prepared to grab his ankle.

  The last step creaked, and Ruby reached out. She grabbed a leg and pulled as hard as she could. Animal fell forward and went down hard onto the concrete floor.

  Adrenaline and endorphins in overdrive, Ruby was able to climb on Animal's back, grabbing at his neck with both hands, squeezing as hard as she could, trying to cut off the blood flow to his brain. Ruby pushed her physical pain aside, took a deep breath, and could taste his sweat. When she exhaled, it turned into a banshee-like scream.

  Animal managed to shake her off and roll to his side.

  When Animal's fist came down on her, she could hear her septum crunch, and feel the warm blood draining from her nostrils.

  Nina could hear Animal pounding on Ruby. "Please stop!" she yelled. Still shackled to a chair, all she could do was watch the abuse and plead for him to stop, before he killed her. It was at that moment she thought they would both die in the harrowing basement.

 

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