by Elin Barnes
Ethan stood next to the table with his toys. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do next. He was bored with de la Rosa and knew the man had been ready to do whatever he’d ask of him long ago.
He faced the woman.
She wasn’t lying down on a table or sitting. She was standing; her feet couldn’t quite plant fully on the floor. Only the balls of her feet reached it. Her arms were raised, forming a wide V, and held away from her body by two metal cuffs that wrapped around her wrists with quarter-inch spikes turned inwards. Drops of blood descended down her arms, curving around her armpits and continuing their journey down her sides, hips, and long legs. Ethan found gravity fascinating. He could watch the red droplets fall all day.
She had beautiful blond hair that cascaded down her back. Her eyes were hazel. She had cried originally; the mascara had marred her rosy cheeks. With the care of a mother bathing her newborn, Ethan had soaked a washcloth in warm water and dabbed the makeup off her face.
She’d spat at him. He hadn’t expected that, though he had to admit that it hadn’t surprised him either. After he cleaned the spit off, he walked behind her and wrapped his hand around her hair. When he had it all in a tight ponytail, he twisted and yanked it, making her lose her balance, which pulled her against the metal spikes, cutting her wrists for the first time. “If you do that again, I will kill you so slowly you will wish you’d never been born,” he promised her.
She’d been much more cooperative after that.
He watched her from his tool cart. Her breasts were perky, a solid B cup. Her stomach was tight, and she had no pubic hair. She waxed. He caressed the soft skin.
She had a small tattoo on her inner thigh. He was fascinated by it. It was a multicolored origami bird. He’d burned her twelve times with a torch others used for welding metal. He didn’t brand her, though. Ethan had enhanced her tattoo by adding a circle of equidistant tiny burns around it. His favorite spot was her ass, though. He had burned a V shape following the curve of her lower back.
Ethan hadn’t touched her face. She was beautiful, and he wanted to save that for last. “What to do, what to do?” he asked out loud. He shuffled through some of the tools and, bored again, looked at his new creation. The big metal box, covered in barbed and razor wire, was not quite ready yet. He was planning on electrifying it with a high enough voltage to hurt, but not quite enough to kill. The corner of his mouth tilted upward with the thought of experiences to come. “Not yet, though,” he murmured, and went back to the table with toys.
Chapter 64
In Northern California it got dark around five in the afternoon in November. The night was crisp, and Darcy could see the stars. He headed west on Younger Street, then turned left on San Pedro. A few blocks south he saw Saffron coming in the opposite direction in her Mini. She hadn’t recognized him driving Sorensen’s Jeep.
He decided to go after her. A woman with a stroller and a dog started crossing the street in front of him. He had to slam on the brakes when the mother realized that the toddler had dropped a stuffed animal and backtracked to pick it up. After she’d moved out of the way, Darcy sped toward the station, hoping to catch Saffron before she went inside.
A minute later he reached Younger and saw Saffron walking on the opposite side of the street. He then noticed a black SUV starting to roll in front of him. Darcy looked at Saffron. She hung her large purse on her shoulder and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the white earbuds. She was looking at the phone in her hand as she headed toward the Sheriff’s Office’s front door. It was dark and he couldn’t quite make out her face.
Darcy looked at the car. It was now speeding. It crossed the double yellow lines and screeched toward the opposite side of the street.
“Saffron!” he yelled, but his voice didn’t travel far—all the windows in the Jeep were up. He jumped out of the still-moving car and ran toward the SUV.
Saffron disappeared from sight. Darcy heard a loud thump. The vehicle then veered off right before it hit the building. Darcy emptied his Glock at the SUV while he ran to Saffron. As the last bullet left the barrel, he reached her. She was on the ground.
The SUV accelerated toward the end of the street. Before it reached the light, its horn started blaring. The vehicle sped through North First, then crashed into the front of the bank on the other side of the street.
Darcy kneeled down next to Saffron.
“Call a bus!” he yelled at the first officer who came out of the station.
Her right leg was bent under her body at an unnatural angle. She had several welts on her face and probably other places hidden by her clothes. Darcy checked his girlfriend’s vitals. They were faint but still there. As he checked for broken bones, he lifted her sweater and saw a purple stain grow under her skin.
“She has internal bleeding. We need to get her to the hospital now!” he shouted at the four other officers coming down the stairs.
Sorensen appeared behind them as the ambulance turned onto the street. The paramedics jumped out and ran toward them.
“Sir, please,” an older medic with a full mustache told him.
Darcy let go and told them what had happened. He stood and watched them work.
They secured a neck brace, then lifted her onto the gurney. As soon as she was inside, Darcy heard the mustached paramedic urge the driver to move fast by announcing, “She needs a laparotomy.”
“Go with her,” Sorensen urged.
“Black SUV. License plate 4-N-H-5-5-2,” Darcy told him before he jumped into the ambulance. “Never saw the guy. But he crashed into the bank. He may still be there.”
Chapter 65
The moment Curtis walked into the room, Ethan knew something had gone wrong. De la Rosa and the call girl were nicely tucked away in the soundproof room.
“What’s up?” Ethan asked.
Curtis took off his canvas jacket and removed his beanie. His dark hair was wet with sweat. Thick sideburns came down to his lower jaw.
“Beer?” Ethan opened the fridge and offered him one.
Curtis took it, twisted the top off and took a long gulp, downing half of it. He finally sat, but then stood again. “Barr’s dead.”
Ethan took a long breath and slouched onto the sofa. “What happened?”
Curtis explained how they followed the woman but had not had an opportunity to take her down until she was on foot on her way to the Sheriff’s Office. They knew that would be the last chance before she talked, so they went for it and ran her over. A cop started shooting at them. One of the bullets blew half of Barr’s head off, and then they crashed into the bank.
“I got the hell out and came here.” He finished his beer. “This thing . . . This mission is blowing up in our faces.”
Ethan squeezed the neck of his own beer bottle but didn’t say anything. His eyes found Curtis’s.
“I get that our first target died unexpectedly and we had to finish the mission some other way. But, man, all those people at the party, the beatings, the woman tonight . . . Are you sure we’re not going too far?” Curtis threw the bottle into the blue recycle bin and took another one from the fridge.
“What’s a successful mission?” Ethan asked. His voice was calm. His tone was firm and self-assured.
Curtis looked at him. When he finally sat down, he said, “A successful mission is when we’ve destroyed the high-value target as defined in the mission objective.”
“And besides destroying the value target as defined, what’s the most important thing?”
“Come out of it alive and in one piece.”
Ethan let the words linger in the air. They both took a gulp of their beers.
Then Ethan leaned forward. “You’ve been with me for over five years.”
Curtis nodded.
“I think we can safely say we’ve never had a more fucked-up mission,” Ethan said.
Curtis laughed for the first time. “I think that’s probably the understatement of the year.”
Ethan nodde
d. “We need to see this through. I know it doesn’t seem right, but many of the things we’re doing we wouldn’t have had to do if things had gone well from the start. But since Malik died while we had him in our hands, there are only two paths forward: one, we complete the mission successfully, no matter what the collateral damage. Or two, we give up, get nothing and have to look over our shoulders for the rest of our lives.” Ethan’s eyes met Curtis’s again, and to ensure that the gravity of his words would sink in, he hammered the point home: “This many loose ends might get us the needle.”
Chapter 66
Inside the ambulance, the paramedic cut through Saffron’s top and got to work. Darcy held her hand, stroking it softly as her blood pressure dropped.
“Please don’t die,” Darcy whispered almost to himself. All he could think about was her expression when he’d walked out on her at Good Sam. He wished he’d stayed. He wished he’d been supportive and understanding instead of getting mad and leaving.
“She can’t die. Please don’t let her die,” he told the paramedic.
The man looked at him for a second, sadness in his eyes.
When they arrived at the hospital, the emergency team was already waiting for them outside. They got the gurney out of the ambulance and rushed her through. Darcy followed, still holding her hand.
“You can’t go in there,” a doctor said. “We’ll take it from here.”
He held on to her hand for a second longer, then let her go. Two doctors and two nurses ran down the rest of the hallway, rushing through the swinging doors. After they went through, the doors swung closed, then open, then closed again, leaving him alone.
Darcy stood for a long time staring at the now-empty hallway. He leaned forward and put both hands on his knees, trying to center himself. When he stood up straight, he saw his hands were red with Saffron’s blood.
A couple minutes later his phone rang. It was Sorensen.
“The van belongs to a Michael Johnston. He reported it stolen this morning. We have some units going to his house right now.”
“Dead end,” Darcy said.
“I know. That’s why I’m not going with them. But we may learn something.”
“What else do you have?”
“Lynch, I have to ask, do you think this was targeted?”
“Why? I don’t know. What are you thinking?”
“I checked the assault victim she was visiting at Good Sam.”
“And?”
“He was roughed up pretty badly. I wonder if there’s a connection between the two hits.”
“What do you know about him?”
Sorensen exhaled, probably buying time.
“What? Spill it.” Darcy was losing his patience and realized he was rubbing his left temple again. He stopped and wondered if Saffron was having an affair. “Can you just say it?”
“Constantine Howard has been associated with high-end prostitution. Never charged, though. He’s known in certain circles as Madam X.”
“What? Are you saying Saffron . . . ?” He couldn’t make himself finish.
“I’m not saying that. I’m just asking if you think there might be an explanation for why she was visiting him at the hospital and for the two assaults to be connected.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re insinuating, but Saffron’s not a prostitute.”
“Jesus, man, that’s not what I’m saying. You need to pull your head out of your ass and help me think who did this to her and why.”
Darcy paced up and down the hallway. Then made up his mind and went to the reception area. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he said, “Saffron Meadows, hit-and-run. She just went in with internal bleeding and broken bones.” His throat was dry, and he almost choked trying to finish the sentence.
The nurse looked at him without saying anything.
“I’m on the job.” He showed his badge. “I want to know as soon as she’s out of surgery.”
“Okay.”
She gave him a Post-it for him to write down his contact information.
To Sorensen, he said, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Lynch, we got it. You need to be there for her.”
“It’s going to be hours. We can get a lot done in that time.”
Chapter 67
Darcy was still wiping his hands off when he walked into the bullpen.
“Don’t get comfy. You’re going back out,” Sorensen told him as soon as Darcy reached his desk. “Good Sam just called. The pimp woke up.”
Darcy cringed at the mention of the hustler but shook it off when he realized Sorensen saw it.
“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. Let’s go.”
In a way, he wished Constantine Howard was in the same hospital as Saffron, so he wouldn’t have to go so far to see the pimp. But until he knew what their relationship was, he also felt better knowing they were not collocated.
“How is she?” Virago asked, coming out of her office.
“In surgery. They told me she’s with the best ER surgeon they have.”
“If I hear anything from the hospital, I’ll let you know,” she said. “Detective,” she called before he had gotten too far. “Tomorrow you’ll need to talk to Internal Affairs about this and Jon’s shooting.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” she said, and shooed them off with her hand.
They reached Sorensen’s car, which had come to a stop by bumping into a parked car after Darcy jumped out to shoot at the SUV. It was inside the area marked by the yellow “Do Not Cross” tape.
Sorensen didn’t bother to inspect the damage. Luckily, it wasn’t much, and Darcy was grateful his partner didn’t make a big deal out of it.
“We have too many cases going on. I think we need to divide and conquer once we get back,” Sorensen said, breaking the silence.
“Not sure how we’re going to do that. The bank and the multiple are connected—we both know that. And this one is about my girlfriend. How do you propose we divide and conquer?” Darcy’s voice was ice cold.
“You know as well as I do that when you’re too close, sometimes you don’t have the best judgment. All I’m saying is that we’re not closer to cracking this nut, and the bodies are piling.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Darcy spat. “Everybody keeps reminding me every minute of every fucking day,” he said, and looked out the window. He forced himself to calm down and added in a much lower voice, “But at least now Jon’s back.”
“He is.” Sorensen took the exit for Highway 85. “I should have hit you harder,” he said.
“I always knew you punch like a girl.” Lynch shook his head but had a smirk.
“I saw you rubbing your jaw. I know it still hurts.”
“If that makes you feel better . . . Sure,” Darcy added.
When they got to the hospital, they showed their credentials and were told where Mr. Constantine Howard was.
Sorensen knocked on the door, but Darcy barged right in. “Mr. Howard, Detectives Lynch and Sorensen. How are you feeling?”
X twisted his head in a few different directions to try to see them better with his swollen eyes. “I’ve had better days,” he said.
“Do you know who did this to you?” Darcy asked.
“No. A couple big dudes dressed in black with ski masks.”
The detectives exchanged glances.
“Do you know why they did this to you?” Sorensen asked.
“Are you saying I deserve it because I’m gay?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He hesitated. “I’m wondering if it may have something to so with your line of work . . .”
The vitals quickened on the monitors. X shifted on the bed.
“And what line would that be, Detective?”
“Mr. Howard, we’re not vice,” Darcy interjected. “We just want to find out who did this to you.”
X didn’t look convinced.
“How do you know
Saffron Meadows?” Darcy asked, not wanting to waste any more time.
“The name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“That’s odd, because she was here with you when you came out of surgery,” Sorensen said.
“She was?” He seemed genuinely surprised.
“So?” Darcy pushed.
X took his sippy cup and shoved it at Sorensen. He looked inside and filled it, then handed it back. X drank half of it and shoved it toward Sorensen again. Sorensen sighed and refilled it.
“I met her yesterday.”
“For the first time?” Darcy asked, feeling a huge weight lifting off his shoulders.
“Yes. Her sister works for me. She couldn’t get ahold of her, so she tricked me into meeting her, and we chatted.”
“Which sister?” Darcy asked.
“I only know one. Aislin. She goes by Belle in some circles.”
“So, where’s the sister?”
“I don’t know. I set her up to accompany a nice gentleman to a party two days ago.”
“What party?” Darcy’s neck hairs stood on end. The image of Saffron showing up unexpectedly at the Los Altos crime scene flashed in his mind.
“You know, the one in the news.”
“Did you send any more guests to that party?”
“I had three girls there. Two are dead. Aislin is nowhere to be found.”
“How did you know about the party?”
“How do we always know about these parties, Detective?” X sighed.
“Who called you to request your services?” Sorensen asked.
“Carlos de la Rosa called me first. He needed two girls. Interestingly enough, another one of my regulars called me because he’d heard about the party and wanted to go.”
“Was that unusual?”
“It happens sometimes, specially when the party’s really hot. This one wasn’t so much, so I was a bit surprised, because this regular is a pretty big hotshot.”