by Elin Barnes
She took a deep breath. She needed to confront him or run out the door.
“What have you done with my sister?” Her voice was merely a whisper.
“What did you just say?” He stopped pouring and turned toward her.
“Aislin. Belle. What have you done to her?”
He placed the Coke on the table, right next to the tiny bottles. His movements were slow, deliberate. Saffron knew he was assessing her. He looked up, past her, toward the door, probably calculating her chances of escaping. Saffron froze in place. This was a really, really bad idea, she cursed.
She squared her shoulders and said, “The party last night. You took her there. How did all of those people end up dead but you’re alive and my sister’s missing?”
“I’m lucky to be alive. All I did was bring a whore to a party. I don’t know what happened to your sister.”
“Why are you still alive? What happened in there?”
“A bunch of men came into the house and terrorized all of us.”
“And yet you’re here on your regular appointment, while eleven people from the party last night are dead, and my sister’s missing.”
“I needed to blow off some steam.”
“Right.”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now get naked or get the fuck out of my hotel room.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened to my sister.”
She took a couple steps toward him. Her hands were on her hips, accentuating each movement.
Saffron saw his jaw tighten, and his eyes were locked on hers. They were empty, like little black holes. Against her better judgment, she flinched and moved back. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he could hear it.
“Get naked or get the fuck out, I said.”
“Tell me what happened to her.” Her voice was strong, loud. By now she was more angry than scared.
Blake moved fast toward her. She lost her balance and stumbled. He closed the distance and pushed her onto the bed. Before she could get up, he was on top of her.
“Get off me,” she yelled with gritted teeth, trying to push him off.
He slapped her with so much force she was stunned for a few seconds.
“Tell Madam X he’s fired.” He pushed himself off of her and walked out of the room.
Saffron started crying. Her face burned, but mostly she was both relieved it was over and frustrated she got nothing out of him.
She stood and was pulling her dress down when she heard the hotel key unlocking the door. Her heart sank. She looked around for anything she could use to protect herself. She grabbed the tiny bottle of rum.
The door flung open, and Madam X’s two goons propelled Blake back into the room. X followed and closed the door behind him.
“Sorry we took so long,” he said to Saffron, who was now standing next to the small love seat by the window.
Blake was on the floor. X walked to him and kicked him in the gut. The goons moved to block the exit. Blake wailed and retreated until his back hit the TV stand.
“Two of my girls are dead and one’s missing,” X said, standing at kicking distance from Blake. “We all want to know what the hell happened at that party and where Belle is.”
Blake hugged his stomach and, after taking a deep breath, said, “I don’t know what happened. Five men came into the house and crashed the party. They put us all in the same room. One of the girls tried to escape, and they shot her.”
Saffron wanted to interrupt but bit her tongue instead.
“I tried to take down one of them, and he hit me in the head so hard I passed out.” He touched his head right above the left ear, as if to emphasize the spot. “When I woke up, a bunch of people were dead around me, so I bolted.”
“That’s the most preposterous story I’ve ever heard,” X said, taking a step closer to him.
“Why not go to the police?” Saffron asked, still glued to the window.
“I can’t. My company is about to be bought. If I get linked in any way to that party and what happened there, our buyers will pull out of the deal. We can’t afford that.”
“You care more about your stupid company than all of those dead people?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Were there any survivors?” X asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t stay to check. I saw bodies and a lot of blood, so I ran.”
“Did you see Belle?” Saffron walked toward them and stopped next to X.
“No. She might have been in another room, or maybe she managed to escape. I seriously don’t know where she is.”
“Why are you still alive?” X asked.
Blake scurried toward the window. “They probably thought I was dead.”
“That must have been some blow if they thought that,” X scoffed.
“I’m as much a victim of what happened in that house as everybody else.” His voice was hollow.
Saffron stared down at him. “No. You’re still alive.”
X looked at his goons. One stayed by the door, still blocking the exit, and the other picked Blake up from the floor and pinned him against the wall. He grunted but was man enough to refrain from whining. X sat on the bed, crossed his legs and interlaced his fingers, resting his elbows on the top knee.
Saffron wanted to sit next to him, but he looked commanding and almost scary, so she stood by the side of the bed instead.
“Let me tell you how you’re going to make this right,” X said.
Chapter 53
Darcy’s stomach protested. It felt hollow. He scratched Shelby behind the ears before he walked to the kitchen to find something to eat. The pantry was almost empty, but at the very end, forgotten in a corner, was a can of soup. He grabbed it and as an afterthought checked the expiration date.
“Damn, this must have been there from the previous owners,” he told his dog, and threw the old can into the garbage.
He took a beer from the fridge. Shelby was blocking his exit, sitting in front of him, raising a paw, expecting to get a treat just because she was cute. He gave in after making her shake with the other paw. He took a sip of the cold beer and walked to the living room. The leather sofa felt cold. Shelby climbed next to him, and after circling a few times she finally lay down.
The night was chilly and very dark. He thought about putting a log in the fireplace. He got up and realized he didn’t have any wood to burn. Lola swam in her tank on top of the mantel. He fed her and went back to sit next to Shelby.
He looked out the window. The steam lingered right above the lit pool, inviting him to jump in. But instead of going for a swim he checked his phone. Still nothing from Saffron. “Where are you?” he wanted to ask her. He didn’t want to be pushy or possessive, but he really wished she were there with him right now. He missed her presence, her scent, how she looked at him over the rim of her mug when she drank coffee, and how she pushed the loose strands of hair behind her ear.
Mostly, he missed talking to her. She was bright and funny, always lifting his mood no matter what horrors the day had brought. But she wasn’t here, and he had already left enough voice mails and texts that went unreturned. Darcy pushed away the fleeting thought that maybe she’d gone back to her ex-boyfriend. Ranjan. The douche bag who only realized how amazing she was once he’d lost her.
Pushing away the thoughts of Saffron only brought forward the guilt he felt for what happened to Jon. He believed he was justified in the pursuit, but looking back, he knew he’d gone too far. “What is wrong with you?” Sorensen had asked him. Darcy didn’t have an answer then, and he still didn’t. He thought he was doing the right thing going after the van. He needed to show his colleagues that he was as good as them, or better. He had balls. That having only one eye didn’t mean he wasn’t as good as the rest of them. And then he stopped. A chill ran through his body, and nausea churned his gut. There was nothing worse than becoming a bad cop because you had a chip on your shoulder.
Chapter 54
/> Thursday
The next day, Sorensen went to pick Lynch up, since the Cobra wasn’t ready yet. He was getting tired of being Lynch’s taxi driver and had told him several times to get a rental. He despised working with the guy after what he’d done to Jon, but Virago had made it very clear that he needed to put his resentment aside and focus on solving the case. And though he hated to admit it, they did work better together than apart.
They stopped at Starbucks, but Sorensen refused to get out of the car and opted for the drive-through. It wasn’t even eight in the morning, and the line of cars already wrapped around the building.
“You know it would be much faster if we just went inside, right?” Lynch checked his watch.
“Next time you drive, you get to decide. Okay, sport?”
“I just wanted to be there before the guy shows up.”
“They go fast here. Besides, we don’t have a subpoena yet. And remember: they’re lawyers, so we can’t even con them.” Sorensen lifted his foot from the brake, and the car moved ahead a few inches.
After about ten minutes, they got their orders and Sorensen sped through traffic, not touching his drink the entire ride. When they arrived at McKenzie & Shaw, he took the first visitor spot he found, and they both bolted out of the car.
One of the receptionists informed them that Leon Brantley hadn’t arrived yet.
“And you were so worried about going through the drive-through. I told you we wouldn’t miss him.” Sorensen sat down on the uncomfortable-looking sofa and combed his curls with open fingers.
Lynch checked his notes. Sorensen thought about Jon and how much he missed him. Not only his research skills and how he so often thought outside the box, but also his personality. He had this naïve side, which was very refreshing, especially around the station.
He pulled out his phone and called the hospital.
“This is Detective Sorensen. I wanted to check how Jon Evans is doing,” he told the head nurse.
“Much better. He just had breakfast.”
Her voice was low but singsongy. The way she spoke made him feel happy. Or maybe it was the news.
“Breakfast? That’s great. Can I talk to him?”
She transferred him, and while he was on hold he looked at Lynch, who was staring back at him, expecting the update. Sorensen mouthed, “Jon.”
“Yeah, I guessed. He ate?”
Before Sorensen could reply, Jon said, “Detective.” His voice was barely a whisper. He coughed, and Sorensen heard him drink. “Please give me something to do,” he begged. “I’m bored out of my mind.”
“You need to rest.” His fatherly instincts flared up.
“My Dad won’t stop lecturing me, and my Mom won’t stop babying me. One more day of this and I think I’ll force myself into an induced coma.”
Sorensen laughed. The elevator opened, and Brantley came out.
“Okay, buddy, let me see what I can do. I got to run, but I’ll come by and see you later today.”
Hanging up, he followed Lynch toward the manager.
“We need a few more minutes of your time,” Lynch said.
Brantley checked his watch, then frowned but finally motioned them to follow him to his office. When they got there, he closed the door behind them.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
Lynch took the lead. “Do you know Carlos de la Rosa?”
“Yes, of course. He founded this law firm, and he’s my boss.” His eyes were wide open, and he looked from one detective to another.
“He founded it?” Sorensen asked. “His name is not on the door.”
“On purpose. When he founded the law firm, he didn’t think he would get the high-end clients he wanted with a Hispanic name.”
“We think he’s missing.”
“Missing? I just saw him yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“No, wait, we were supposed to have a meeting, but he didn’t show up. I guess I haven’t seen him since the day before.”
“Do you watch the news?” Sorensen asked.
Brantley looked at him as if he had spoken in a different language.
“Yeah, do you watch the local news? Did you hear about the multiple homicide in Los Altos?”
Brantley turned white and covered his mouth with both hands. “I didn’t make the connection. They didn’t mention any names.” After he swallowed a couple times, he asked, “Is he hurt?”
Sorensen looked at Lynch. “He’s missing. As in, we can’t find him, so we don’t really know if he’s dead or alive . . .” He spoke each word as if he were talking to a four-year-old.
“Mr. Brantley, we need to know what he and Malik were working on,” Lynch cut in.
“Do you think somebody’s targeting us?”
“Why do you say ‘us’? Have you had any specific threats lately?” Sorensen asked.
“Well, no,” he said, looking from one detective to the other again.
“What cases were they both involved in?” Lynch pushed.
“It’s going to take some time . . . De la Rosa oversees everything we do.” Still ping-ponging from one to the other, he added, “And you know I will need a subpoena.”
“Is there anything you can actually help us out with? All we’re trying to do is find him at this point. We don’t really care about all this patent stuff or any company secrets.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”
“Fine. We’ll be back in an hour, but you better have everything ready by then,” Sorensen said, already heading out the door.
Both detectives walked back to the elevator in silence.
Once they got inside, Sorensen said, “You know, I don’t get these guys. We’re trying to help them, and they stall us for some frigging paperwork. What do they think we’re going to do with all that stuff anyway? Bet on the stock market?”
A few minutes later they arrived at the station. While Sorensen went in to talk to Virago, Lynch typed up the subpoena.
“Give it to Judge Yu.” Virago told Sorensen while she checked her watch. “He should be going on break soon. You better hurry before he gets stuck for another couple hours.”
Sorensen met Darcy and they headed to the elevator. Before they reached it, Sorensen said, “Wait a sec. I forgot something.”
He went back into the bullpen and grabbed Jon’s laptop and power cord. He sensed Virago watching him.
“He said he was bored,” he yelled over his shoulder, and left before she could stop him.
Chapter 55
Saffron woke up feeling like she needed to throw up. She opened her eyes and remembered Blake pinning her to the bed at the hotel room. She extended her arm, wanting to find Darcy by her side, but touched a hairy ball instead. Cat meowed, stretched and walked onto Saffron’s chest, where she curled into a new ball.
She checked the time on her phone. It was just past eight thirty. She saw Darcy’s unanswered text and voice mails, and her heart sank. Just give me a little longer, she thought, and hid the phone under the pillow. She didn’t like keeping things from Darcy and knew she would have to tell him about Aislin soon. She touched her face. It felt sore. She wondered if she had a bruise. Maybe. If she did, she would have a hard time explaining that one to Darcy. Cat purred on her chest. The cell rang, she grabbed it, and Cat jumped off the bed, expressing her discontent.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Are you going to join us?” her boss asked.
She’d totally forgotten about her conference call with the offshore team. “I’m sorry, I’m still on PTO,” she said. “Personal stuff I have to take care of.”
“I think you’re running out of vacation days,” he said, and hung up.
He was probably right. She made a mental note to check her vacation balance as soon as she got back to work . . . one of these days.
Shoving the covers away, she got out of bed. She took her tank top off and caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. There was a shadow of a fist-s
ize bruise on the left side of her face. Shit, she thought.
She took a long shower and thought about the encounter with Blake. After they let him go, Madam X told her to meet him in the morning for breakfast to talk about what else they could do to find Aislin. X said he had a few contacts in the underworld that might be able to help.
Without giving her clothes too much thought, she got dressed, fed Cat and searched for X’s address in her phone. By the time Saffron got out of the house, the rush-hour traffic was dying. A block away from X’s address, she saw two police cars and an ambulance. A terrible sense of déjà vu clenched her heart.
She walked toward the orange tape that kept the curious away from the crime scene. Two paramedics were wheeling Madam X into the ambulance. Saffron reached an officer with a clipboard. At the last second she decided to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, ducked below the tape and ran to X.
“Hey, lady, come back here,” the officer yelled.
That caught the attention of two cops standing by the ambulance. “Miss Meadows?” she heard somebody say.
She stopped running. It was Officer Bush. He was one of the SJPD officers who had been assigned to protect her when that maniac was trying to kill her several weeks ago.
“Officer Bush.” She walked toward him but pointed at Madam X. “He’s my friend. What happened to him?” she asked.
He walked with her toward the ambulance. “He was assaulted by two men. They did a real number on him.”
“But he’s going to be okay?” she asked.
X’s eyes were shut and swollen. He had a gash on his cheek, as if it had been slashed with a sharp knife. He was also bleeding from a few other wounds around his torso. Saffron noticed that his knuckles were bloody and raw. He must have put up a good fight.
One of the paramedics looked at her. “We need to get him to the hospital right now.”
“You can go with him if you want,” Bush said to her.
“Thank you.”
She jumped in and sat on the small pull-down seat. She reached out to touch Madam X’s arm but, not wanting to interfere with the paramedic’s work, Saffron sat on her hands. Constantine, where were your goons when you really needed them? she thought.