by N. M. Brown
‘Heather took her own life not long after our separation.’
‘Shit,’ Rochelle frowned. ‘That must’ve been pretty tough.’
‘Yeah, I know. That’s why I try to cut her some slack – maybe too much.’
‘I meant on you,’ Rochelle said softly.
‘I can handle it,’ Leighton said, ‘that’s the parent’s job, right?’
‘Yeah? Well not in my world.’
‘Do you keep in touch with your family?’ Leighton asked.
‘C’mon! What parent wants an addict and a hooker for a kid? It was never on the cards; no little girl grows up wanting to be like me. At least I hope they don’t.’
‘What did you want to be when you were a kid?’
‘Loved,’ Rochelle said simply.
‘Tough times?’
‘Other people have a worse story than mine,’ Rochelle said dismissively, and Leighton thought the conversation was closed. Then, for some reason, Rochelle looked at her feet and spoke in a quiet, different voice from her usual tough persona. ‘When I was a little kid, maybe seven or eight, I had this book from the school library. It was a proper hardback with a dust jacket and everything – Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder.’
Leighton nodded. ‘Like the TV show?’
‘Yeah, I think that’s right. But we didn’t have a TV – the repo men took it away when my mom failed to make any payments on it. After dad left she didn’t really know how to take care of things. Losing the TV wasn’t a big deal to me, books were better. Some nights when I was too hot to sleep I would lie in my bed and read it cover to cover. I wasn’t the best reader – I guess I just loved the idea of travelling through the land in that wagon, your own home on wheels. Imagine keeping on going till you find the perfect spot then building a cabin on it.’
Leighton smiled. ‘So, you fancied the freedom, huh?’
‘Yeah, I still do, but I guess I liked Laura in the books – she was a little fighter. And the pa in the story was the real deal. He kept his children safe and told bedtime stories, and played music on his fiddle. Maybe that’s what I wanted when I grew up – someone like that who would make me feel safe.’ She laughed in a sad way. ‘But instead I got Billy, a crack pipe, and lived unhappily ever after.’
‘You’re still young, Rochelle. There are good people and a whole world out there.’
‘Not for me. I’m like a broken mirror. I sometimes wish, you know, I could go back to the start again. I don’t know,’ she shrugged her shoulders, ‘maybe do things differently.’
‘I recognise that feeling,’ Leighton said softly, ‘but mistakes are only a problem if we don’t learn from them. You still using?’
‘Every day. Just cocaine,’ she said, as if it was as normal as the sun rising over California.
‘You ever try to get clean?’ Leighton asked.
‘I will, some day,’ she said with a touch of sincerity, but they avoided each other’s gaze – knowing how unlikely it was that this day would ever come. ‘Until then, I guess I’ll be working the streets of Oceanside – whilst avoiding the Vice unit and some psycho killer.’
‘Couldn’t you stay off the streets until this thing is over?’ Leighton asked.
‘Only if I want to lose my home.’
‘Look, I’ll give you my cell phone number. If you can arrange for me to speak to some of the girls, maybe I can help you track down this girl Jenna. That way you can worry a bit less.’
‘Sure,’ Rochelle smiled, ‘that would be great. I’ll ask around. I’m not saying the girls will trust you, but maybe if I’m there it’ll be okay. There’s one girl called Danielle, she seems to be the last of the girls to have seen Jenna.’
‘Fine,’ Leighton said. ‘You track her down and let me know. I’m available most nights.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Elizabeth Walker did not notice the car at first.
After helping to close up the roadside burger bar where she worked, she had quickly taken off her black apron and cap, then stuffed them both in her purse. Shen then used the freshly mopped toilets to change into a tight skirt and sequenced top. Elizabeth had partly hoped that when Stacey-- her manager saw her change into a party outfit she would have offered a lift to the South side of the city. That was both where Stacey lived, and where Elizabeth’s friend’s twenty first birthday celebration was. However, when she emerged from the toilets Elizabeth found that Stacey was standing impatiently in the main doorway with a set of keys jangling in the lock.
‘C’mon,’ she said impatiently, ‘It’s after eleven- I’ll be back in this place in eight hours from now!’
‘Sorry,’ Elizabeth mumbled as she clicked across the damp tiles of the floor.
Once they were both outside, Stacey had locked the glass doors and said a quick good night to Elizabeth, before crossing the small parking lot and vanishing into her car.
It was colder outside than Elizabeth had expected. A cold wind blowing in off the dark ocean caused goose bumps to form on her bare legs.
‘Selfish bitch!’ Elizabeth had muttered before starting off on a journey to find the nearest bus stop.
Fortunately, it did not take her too long. She had only walked less than half a quarter of a kilometre away from the closed burger bar when she found sanctuary beneath a curved bus shelter with a smooth metal bench on which to rest.
She had hoped to check the bus times, but the timetable had been replaced with a advertising poster for whale and dolphin tours. She would just have to hope a bus was due soon.
It was only after Elizabeth had glanced up and down the road in both directions that she noticed the car parked on the opposite side of the street from her. The vehicle was dark, colourless and glossy beneath the sodium lights.
Suddenly the car’s lights flashed twice.
Elizabeth glanced instinctively at the vehicle for a moment, then purposely returned her attention to looking out for potential bus. It was unlikely that anybody she knew would be parked around here. None of her friends from college came to this side of town – unless she was working a Saturday and they wanted a free lunch. She therefore kept her eyes locked on the road in the hope of seeing the safety of an approaching bus.
Suddenly the car lights flashed again. Longer, it seemed. There were two slow flashes. This time Elizabeth turned her face and looked at the car for longer. It was then she realised the driver of the car was frantically waving at her. It was too far away to see any features, just a figure which was clearly waving at her.
Elizabeth stood up and held a hand up to shield her eyes as she peered at the dark car.
The headlights flashed again.
In a moment of hopeful inspiration, Elizabeth realised that the driver may actually have been Stacey. Perhaps she had a change of heart and decided to return to pick her younger colleague up and save her from the cold blade of the wind. That would explain why the driver was waving so vigorously and trying to catch her attention.
Elizabeth tucked her purse beneath her arm and, having checked both ways on the deserted road, hurried toward the dark car.
It was much more difficult to drag the remains from North Santa Fe Avenue, to the cliff edge, than he had imagined it would be. The curled fingers of the burger girl kept snagging on dried shrubs and bushes as he pulled the body away from the open trunk of the car. Eventually however, after ten minutes or so, he got them to the edge. Sitting down on the dusty ground, he braced himself with his hands and used his legs to push the body over the edge of the small ravine in Guajome Regional Park. It was a struggle, but eventually the pushing and grunting gave way, and the body tumbled into infinity.
As he sat panting and sweating in the darkness, he felt the urge to drive back to the city for another one.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Danielle sat in McDonalds, squirming in her seat. It had taken Rochelle, who was sitting next to her, half an hour to coax her off the street.
‘You sure he’s not vice?’ she asked, a
s she nodded to where Leighton was standing at the counter. It was the third time she had directed the question toward toward Rochelle.
‘No, he’s not,’ Rochelle said in a hushed voice, ‘he’s gonna help find Jenna.’
‘Good luck,’ Dannielle said dismissively. ‘That girl will be lying dead in a storm drain somewhere.’
Leighton returned to the table carrying a plastic tray that was crammed with drinks, wrapped burgers and fries.
As he sat down, Rochelle divided the food between them.
‘So,’ Leighton said as he sat down, ‘Rochelle told me that you saw Jenna on the night she vanished.’
‘I said I might have seen her,’ Danielle clarified, and began to tear into her food.
‘Can you remember where she was when you might have seen her?’
‘Down on the boulevard. It was a quiet night, so I reckon I passed her a couple of times. Jenna was a quiet one. Some of the girls, like Rochelle here, will holler across the street if they know you – kinda looking out for each other. Jenna, she just kept her head down and did what she did.’
‘Did you see anyone with her?’ Leighton asked.
‘Nope.’ Danielle said, gathering fries into her hand.
‘Were any cars nearby?’
‘Are you serious? There were about two hundred cars nearby – it’s a fucking highway.’
‘This is a waste of time,’ Leighton said, directing his attention to Rochelle. ‘Enjoy your burgers, ladies.’
He stood up to leave but Rochelle grabbed his arm.
‘Hang on, don’t go. Danielle doesn’t mean anything, she’s a bitch by nature.’
‘I am what the shitty world made me,’ Danielle said with an indifferent shrug.
Leighton cautiously sat back down again.
‘D,’ Rochelle said quietly, ‘the man is trying to help. Give him a goddam break, will you?’
‘Did you see anything unusual that night at all?’ Leighton asked in an exasperated tone.
‘Well, I did see this guy, nowhere near Jenna, but he is a real asshole. I remember being kinda freaked out and thinking it was the psycho guy again.’
‘What psycho guy?’ Rochelle asked.
‘From last year. The asshole who tried to put me in his car.’
‘Oh,’ Rochelle nodded vigorously as she remembered.
‘What happened with this guy?’ Leighton asked.
Danielle sighed indifferently, but her tone of voice betrayed her cool exterior. ‘One time I was working over on Vegas Drive. I’d had a couple of tricks and was heading home. Some guy pulled over and said he would pay me double. That got me freaked right away, because nobody offers to pay double, ever – you know what I mean? It’s always about paying less, not more, so it smelled like a setup to me. I told him to forget about it and I walked away, but the next thing I know, this creep is out of his car and coming after me.’
‘Prick,’ Rochelle said, crushed her burger wrapper in her hand.
‘Had you seen the guy before?’ Leighton asked.
‘No, never,’ Danielle said whilst shaking her head. ‘But the freaky thing is that he started trying to hustle me into his car, and all the time he kept calling me some other name – Vera, or Violet, or some shit like that.’
‘What happened? How did you get away from him?’
‘Well, he kinda gripped my arm and was looking at me in this messed up way. But then Larry pulled up in his SUV and the psycho hurried back to his car and sped off.’
‘Larry’s your boyfriend?’
Danielle laughed bitterly.
‘No,’ Rochelle said patiently, ‘he’s her pimp.’
‘The guy got back in his car and vanished. The crazy thing is, Larry wasn’t coming to save me, he was coming to make sure I went with the psycho.’
‘Did you tell anyone about the incident at the time?’ Leighton asked.
‘Sure, I even took two buses to make a police report down at the station on Mission Avenue. Waste of time and money – the pig I spoke to said that somebody would follow it up and get back to me.’
‘Did they?’
‘I heard nada, but it didn’t faze me. No cop is going to waste time on a hooker getting beaten up, or worse.’
‘That’s not true,’ Leighton said firmly.
‘Oh, and I suppose you’re a hooker, and that’s how you know, right?’ Danielle raised her eyebrows expectantly.
‘No,’ Leighton said defiantly, ‘but I’m a cop.’
‘Well I guess that puts you on the other side of the fence from me, so you know shit about what we do!’
‘D, he’s just trying to help,’ Rochelle said in a voice that was close to pleading.
‘Yeah, or maybe he’s just sniffing around for a promotion,’ Danielle eyed Rochelle from head to toe. ‘Or maybe he’s sniffing around something else.’
Rochelle shook her head in exasperation, but Leighton ignored the accusation and continued with his line of questioning.
‘Did you provide a description of the guy who grabbed you, in your report?’
‘Sure, I even gave the license plate of his car – for all the good it did. The guy I spoke to looked at me like I was a diseased dog.’
This particular detail got Leighton’s attention. In his experience, descriptions from witnesses were often sketchy at best. Definite details like plates, street names, and numbers were generally more reliable.
‘You gave the license plate in your police report?’ he asked, to confirm the fact.
‘That’s what I said, didn’t I?’ Danielle said, before she drained the last of her Coke and stood up. ‘Okay, I’m done here. The way I see it, the guy could be driving around here, taking another girl every night, and no one would give a shit. Later, Chelle.’
‘Thanks,’ Leighton said, but Danielle ignored him and strutted to the door.
After she had gone, Rochelle looked at Leighton apologetically.
‘Sorry about that. Danielle’s usually less of a bitch.’
‘To you maybe,’ Leighton smiled. ‘I guess I’m more of a threat.’
‘Well, the vice cops we meet from the Special Enforcement section aren’t always full of respect. Danielle has probably seen a decade of abuse.’
‘Fair enough. Listen, can you remember if she told you at the time that she had been attacked?’
‘Yeah,’ Rochelle said, ‘she spoke to all the girls on our corner, just to give them a heads-up.’
‘That’s good. Can you remember when that was?’
‘Last year. I think it was near Christmas because I remember when D was telling me about it, she was wearing these little flashing reindeer earrings.’
‘Okay, Leighton nodded. ‘What’s Danielle’s surname?’
Rochelle looked at him blankly. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she said.
‘But I thought you’d known her for a while?’
‘I have – four years, give or take.’
‘And you don’t know her name?’
‘No, why would I? We just work the same streets. Like people who wait on the same bus every morning. You might nod to each other, and maybe even speak a little, but telling people your name – your real name – especially on the streets, nobody has that much trust in anyone out there; names are a big deal. But I guess it might make a difference to your searching.’
‘Yeah, it makes looking for the report a bit trickier without a surname, but I’ll see what I can do.’ Leighton looked at his watch. ‘Look, I need to check in at the station. Can I drop you somewhere?’
‘No, it’s cool,’ Rochelle said with a shrug. ‘I’m due to start work now anyway.’ She stood up, pulled a tin of lip gloss from her purse and used a finger to smear it across her puckered mouth. ‘Thanks for helping us out,’ she said, almost absently, but Leighton could see the gratitude in her expression.
‘It’s nothing,’ Leighton smiled.
‘No rest for the wicked,’ she said. Something in her eyes suggested that she meant it.
After R
ochelle had gone, Leighton took a small notepad from his pocket and scribbled down a few details.
When he stepped out of the clinical glare of the burger bar, into the night, Leighton had to narrow his eyes in the darkness. The air was mild and some cicadas mirrored the sound of his feet as he walked across the parking lot to his car. The area was hemmed in by a low wall on one side and a cardboard-waste compactor on the other. He had parked in the back corner of the lot, where it would be less obvious to Gretsch’s spies.
Leighton had just reached the door of his car when the attack came.
The figure, dressed in dark clothes, stepped from the shadows and cracked Leighton on the back of the head with a tyre iron. A flash of pain eclipsed his thoughts. As he fell forward against the side of the car, the figure hit him again, this time on his back. Then it crouched down and spoke to him:
‘Back off from my business or I’ll put you in the ground,’ a dry voice whispered. The figure punched Leighton in the face then melted into the night, leaving him groaning in agony on the asphalt.
Eventually, he gripped the side of the door and levered himself up. He reached up to his head and felt around his scalp for blood. Fortunately, there was only a painful swelling.
He glanced around, hoping to find some witnesses, but the brightness inside the burger bar meant that the numerous diners would see nothing through the large glass windows but darkness and their own reflections.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As he limped into the office area at the back of Oceanside Police Station, Leighton found a dozen or so officers dotted around the room. Most were typing into computers, or phoning around to follow up leads on one case or another. His colleagues that were speaking on the telephone looked much more relaxed than those typing up reports.
‘Hey, day shift’s over, Jonesy. You not heading home?’ one of them called out.
‘You know, I was going to head off for a shower and a cool beer,’ Leighton smiled, ‘but then I figured, why do that when I could crawl back here and enjoy some paperwork – just for the fun of it, you realise.’