Ride the Lightning

by Terri Lynn Coop

  "Don't get up. Simon needs his rest." I put the tray of coffee and toast on the table.

  "I've had a lot of dogs, but never a little guy like this. I have to admit it; he's a doll."

  "I said pretty much the same thing. Now I can't imagine life without him. Okay, we're back in daylight mode. Tell me what you meant about the back door. And thank you."

  Max drained his cup and held it out for a refill. He buttered a square of toast and after feeding a morsel to Simon, met my eyes.

  "First off, thank you and well done. That was some damn fast thinking. You kept them off their game the whole time. All except the EMT. He works here, doesn't he?"

  "That was Joey, the guy who told me about the fishing pier and who saved my ass during the Shine overdose. He's a good man and a good friend. I'm going to have to tell him a few things, but he understands secrets, and he has my back."

  "If you trust him, then I trust him."

  "Now, the door."

  He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, I don't do all-nighters as well as I used to. Especially ones that include emergency exfils, bourbon, gunfights, and a beautiful woman in her underwear."

  "Tell me about it."

  "I double-checked the alarm panel. That light is for maintenance mode. It's a code that puts the alarm into an isolated loop where you can work on it without it tripping. The system registers the door as closed and locked even when it's wide open. It's also a function that's supposed to be strictly monitored by the alarm company and not used without your knowledge and consent. Who installed and maintains the system?'

  "A local company called A1 Security. They're highly rated by the cops and my insurance company. Who'd have access to the code?"

  "In theory, not somebody who'd do this. There are secrets in the industry and law enforcement about bypassing security systems. It's easier than you think, but it's not common knowledge. I'll do some digging. A lot of cops and firemen moonlight for security companies. I'll cross-check the rosters. I need to get out of here. I'm sure it's already spreading around, and your employees and enterprising contractors will be nosing around soon. Monitoring police scanners is a favorite sport in places like this. Can I see that diary?"

  With everything that's happened, I'd almost forgotten about it. I got the bag out of my safe and put the bloodstained book on the table. In the light, the glitter on the cover made it even sadder. I pulled on a pair of fresh latex gloves and turned the key.

  "What the hell?" Max leaned over the pages covered in closely packed symbols.

  "Unless I'm mistaken, it's shorthand. Of course, it is. Because nothing about this fucking mess can be easy."

  "Can you read it?"

  "No, I can't. I recognize it because a lot of the old-school paralegals and secretaries don't like using recorders. A good technician can do over a hundred words a minute with no mistakes. That's it."

  "What?"

  "They still use shorthand at Gerald's firm."

  "Gerald Loeb?"

  "You really did read my file."

  "Even the classified parts."

  I closed the diary, disappointed at the delay. "I can scan this and send it to them for transcription. All protected behind the steel curtain of privilege."

  "Excellent. Get it done. Even if it's about her favorite movie, we need to know. Hey, have you looked at the cover?"

  "I saw the blood."

  "There's more. In fact, I do believe we've got some baby gravy right here." He ran his thumbnail across the embossed cover. A white translucent crust lifted.

  "What?"

  I wasn't prepared for the quizzical look or the laughter.

  "What's so funny?"

  "You are. I spent a chunk of the night with you wielding a shotgun before dazzling the local law in your bikinis, and then you ask a question I'd expect from a Sunday school teacher. Pardon me, Ms. Martin. I do believe it's a splooge stain, as in semen, or if you prefer, nature's own DNA repository. Something any guy over thirteen would recognize immediately."

  My cheeks flamed hot. I didn't even have a joke.

  "I'll send Maddie. It's her law firm. For the moment, if you don't mind, I'll put the, um, sample, back in my safe."

  He didn't give it back to me. Instead, he held it up to the light and turned it around.

  "Jewel, during the reenactment, didn't you say that the beating came first, before the sex?"

  "Yes. That was in the confession."

  He pointed to a cluster of blood drops.

  "The plot just thickened. There is blood on top of the semen. In this version of things, the happy ending came first. You need to get the insides to your transcriber and the outside to your lab geek ASAP."

  I didn't have an answer. I was already calculating how long it would take me to scan it and email it to Gerald.

  Max stood and brushed toast crumbs off his lap. "And with that, I'll bid you good day. My work here is done. Get that window boarded up before dark. Call me when you close it down for the day. I can come back over if you want. It'd enhance my reputation considerably."

  I hit the showers after he left, and verified I'd locked all the doors, including the manual override deadbolt on the side fire door. I had a busy day ahead of me.

  CHAPTER 31

  Joey arrived first. I still had my hair in a towel when he used his keycard and code to come in the front door. I'd hoped to get Maddie in here first for a private conversation. I should have known that was futile.

  He helped himself to coffee and sat at the bar. "Is the coast clear?"

  "Yeah, I'm alone."

  "So, did you fuck that guy who had lunch here the other day or do you want to tell me what actually happened?"

  This was the hard part. I didn't like withholding the truth from Joey, but the whole story was too volatile to bring in another person. I decided to take the middle lane.

  "I could lie to you and tell you that I couldn't help myself, or I can fill you in on part of it. Sorry, some has to stay secret. I already told you that I'm a lawyer."

  He nodded and helped himself to a piece of cold toast.

  "So is Maddie. She's here working undercover on Billy Ray Simpson's death penalty appeal, and I'm helping her. That guy from last night is an investigator. God's honest truth, he was sleeping on the couch. I asked him to stay because I had this creepy feeling I was being followed. It turns out, I was right. I concocted the hookup story on the fly to throw the cops off the scent. We both know Billy Ray's conviction rested almost totally on Sheldon's testimony. Please, Joey."

  "Wow, that's heavy. Don't worry, my lips are sealed. I didn't know what was going on, but I suspected something. You and Maddie aren't as coy as you think you are, and you went from wanting to skin her alive to being BFFs in less than a week. What's your guess on his chances?"

  "I don't know right now. I do know we're running out of time."

  "Is that why you handed the party over to me?"

  "Partly. It was disgusting me before Maddie showed up. Now I can't even think about it. If it happens, I don't know if I'll be able to stay here."

  "Fair enough. Is there anything I can do to help?"

  That surprised me. The last time we'd talked about it, he acted like the party was closure and just desserts for a killer.

  "Other than covering for me when I need it, the answer is not yet. Hold that thought. Do you believe he did it?"

  "Honestly, I don't know. I knew Billy Ray through my EMT gig, and he always seemed like a good sort. He sure only had eyes for his wife. Even so, I've seen enough nice guys go batshit crazy that I had to admit it was possible. I didn't respond that night. I was on shift at the plant. I talked to the guys who did. It was bad."

  "I saw the photos."

  "They saw it in 3D."

  I wanted to tell him the whole scene was staged, but couldn't let that out yet. It was time to change the subject.

  "Let's get photos of all of this and call the crew in here to shovel up the mess. I need to get on the phone with the owner and the
insurance company. Do you know a contractor to board up that window? We're closed tonight. I'll pay everyone their regular hours if they come in and help clean. Dancers too. We also need a liquor inventory to determine what got smashed."

  "I'll handle it. Grab a nap, make your calls, and do whatever else you need to do."

  "Sheldon said he was sending someone over to take supplemental statements. Call me if they show up."

  "They won't. As far as they're concerned, this was an attempted burglary thwarted by the second amendment."

  I refilled my coffee and got two new pots going. The mess behind the bar was going to take all day to muck out. When I turned, Joey was making notes on a napkin.

  "Thanks," was all I could say.

  "Nap. Now. And you should wear Hawaiian shirts more often," was his reply.

  * * *

  Recharged after an hour's snooze, the business calls went quick. A strip club getting torn up didn't even get questions from my insurance adjuster. He was going to email me forms and would need a repair estimate. After I assured the owner that there'd only be a day's worth of downtime, he lost interest and cut me short so he could get back to his fishing boat.

  The next call required some thought. There was no smooth way to ask this favor. I dialed the number from memory.

  "Gerald Loeb and Associates."

  "Anthony, is that you? It's Juliana."

  "Boss? Two calls in a week is wonderful. When are you coming back?'

  Anthony had been one of the best parts of my life before it went sideways. I didn't miss the bullshit. I did miss him.

  "You need to come down here for a vacation. Think about it. Lounging on the beach during the day and drinking sex-on-the-beach at night. Wall-to-wall rum and bikinis. You know you want to."

  "Oh my my. That does sound delightful but you didn't call to play travel agent, did you?"

  I never could get anything by him.

  "Is Gerald around?"

  "Hang on for a second."

  The phone turned to bland Muzak and I let my attention drift so much that I jumped when the crisp voice sounded from the other end of the line.

  "Well, well, the prodigal returns. How are you?"

  "Gerald, that's a complicated question."

  "Why do I have the feeling this isn't a social call? Does it have anything to do with the big fat lab bill that came in yesterday's mail?"

  "Uh, yeah, I meant to call you about that. I got pulled into a case down here."

  The silence on the other end told me that he was not going to let me off the hook. I would have to fess up on my own.

  "It's a death penalty appeal. I won't get paid anything. It's still a solid case."

  "I see."

  "I know you have a pro bono fund. If not, take it out of my allowance," I said, referring to the near half-million in unaccounted-for cash he was holding for me.

  "Don't tempt me. Luckily, the discretionary account is fat right now, and we could use feel-good credit. I trust you. However, young lady, I'm going to need some information. You know, like the client's name. I haven't seen any pro hac vice motions, are they coming?

  "I'm, um, not going to be entering an appearance. I'm helping the local law firm more as a consultant. They don't have the juice to do a capital case on their own. They can do the paperwork, but not the investigation."

  "Am I going to regret this?"

  That was a loaded question.

  "Have I ever let you down? Anthony has the contact information for the law firm. Talk to the senior partner Jo Sinclair. She'll give you all the bona fides."

  I could hear him scratching notes and stayed quiet.

  "Now, Sweet Pea, what's the real reason why you're calling? We have death penalty cases in Dallas. You don't have to scrape them up on your own."

  I had to smile at the endearment from my childhood. After last night, it made me feel ashamed of myself. I have people who love me, and I wasn't doing my part. I needed to do better, but it wouldn't be today. I had business to tend to.

  "Do you have anybody on staff that can read and transcribe shorthand?"

  "What is it?"

  "The diary of the murder victim."

  "Are you sure I'm not going to regret this?"

  "If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn't need the diary transcribed."

  "You win. Send it over. Email it straight to Anthony and I'll assign it to someone senior."

  * * *

  "Oh Honey," was all Maddie said when I filled her in on the events of the last day.

  "And please do not chew on me for going out there alone. Max took care of that, and I haven't told Ethan yet. I'm sure he'll have a thing or two to add."

  She refilled our coffee and pushed the donut box across my desk.

  "Then double everything they said and pretend it's from me. I cannot believe you found her diary. I searched everywhere. Even though I'm jealous, I'm glad you found it. I'm sure Aunt Raylene knows shorthand. Problem is it would have taken until two hours before doomsday to get it transcribed. I love her, but she only has one speed and it's whatever she damn well wants."

  "Especially when her game shows are on."

  Our shared humor reminded me of one thing I missed about being around other lawyers. There was always something funny about even the direst case and not everyone appreciated that.

  "I need you to get the diary to Sasha for evidence collection. I'll email her my site photos. It's the key to this entire mess. Are you down for a quick road trip home?"

  "Do I get paid?"

  "Don't push your luck."

  Maddie fished around in the donut box, pinching off samples until she found one she liked. "I've been milking the sick-mother story, in case I needed to bail. I can leave as soon as you write down instructions for Sasha. I'll give you one raspberry cream cruller to get it ready."

  CHAPTER 32

  I had one more gauntlet to run. Ethan. He surprised me with a text asking if he could come by for lunch. Even though the bar was closed for business, I whipped up burgers and fries.

  I took my lecture on operational safety without giving him any back talk. It was to the point, but his heart wasn't in it. When he ran out of steam, I spoke up. First, I brought him up to date on Billy Ray's case, and that I was close to a breakthrough. I didn't like his dark expression.

  "What's going on?"

  "Baby, my time here is almost up. I don't like the idea of leaving you alone with no backup. I don't know what to do."

  The skin prickled up on my forearms. "Spill it, Price."

  "Tomorrow, we're picking up a load of Shine from the source. That's the last puzzle piece. There's also something wrong inside the MC. Last night, the Colonel damn near killed a prospect over some petty bullshit. I've been catching serious stink eye as well. It's a powder keg at the farm. Pretty much the whole crew bugged out today. At least three of your dancers and waitresses have hooked up with club members. Everybody is holed up and hiding out until the run."

  I didn't like the quaver in my voice. "Are you burned?"

  He took my hand and held it tight enough to hurt. It wasn't tight enough for me.

  "I'll be okay. I've been here before, and I know when it's time to get out. I need this info to lower the boom. Max will be filming the whole thing via his drones. This is it. I'm more worried about leaving you alone with this damn fool windmill you're tilting at. Last night tells me somebody is on to you."

  I returned the hand squeeze until my knuckles were white.

  "I'll be okay as well. I can't say I've been exactly here before, but I've been threatened by some pretty bad dudes. The diary should give up the DNA of the killer. I can turn it all over to the law firm and be out of Dodge in an hour if I have to. Even if I have to come back for the camper."

  "If there is one thing I've learned, it's that you can take care of yourself. I also trust you to do the right thing."

  "Right back at you."

  Something happened as we sat with our hands intertwined. Even with t
he background noise of hammering and curses, it was only us at that moment. It was more than sex and attraction and excitement. It was what I'd missed the most. It was the bond of trust.

  A particularly loud crash of glass brought us to the present. We released our dual grip and sat back. We both knew something was different. That something broken was mended.

  I shook my head. "I don't even want to know what that was."

  "I'm guessing the bottom half of that busted window let loose from the frame. Of course, nothing like that has ever happened to me during a construction project."

  "Lovely. Now, can I ask a weird question?"

  "Is there such a thing with this mess?"

  "Maybe. Do you thing Max would let me tag along on the drone surveillance? I believe these two cases are related. I might see something he would miss, and it might be something that would help me."

  "I don't see why not. We aren't exactly following a strict protocol. I'm heading out to meet him to finish setting it up. I'll ask if he's cool with it."

  "I wish you didn't have to go."

  "I'll be back later. Text me when the minions all clear out. Tonight the Colonel is going to be stewing in his own juice. Even Duke has found himself companionship for the evening. There's some bad juju out there right now."

  * * *

  The rest of the afternoon flew by in a whirlwind of inventory lists, invoices for plywood and paint, buckets of glass, and the general detritus of getting the club ready for business. In a tourist area, the attention span is about five seconds. If my bar isn't open, they'll find someplace else. At the rate the work was going, we'd be back at it by sundown tomorrow.

  And I wouldn't be here.

  The call from Max came a couple of hours after Ethan left. He not only had no problem with me going along, he welcomed my presence to help him monitor the drone screens.

  "Joey, tomorrow I'll be here to sign for the liquor delivery, and then I have to leave for a few hours. Are you cool handling the bar?"