by Jonas Saul
Maybe Roland and Frank were the same. Enforcers for Cole, with fake police badges to back it up if needed.
Or maybe Roland was telling the truth and they never intended to hurt her. They could’ve been working undercover and delivering Sarah to another boat. After that they would return to Cole and tell him they killed her.
She had no way of knowing the truth, but there was one way to find out. She could call her only friend in Los Angeles, Detective David Hirst.
If it turned out that Roland and Frank were the real thing, it was only right that their families got closure. Hirst knew Sarah. He knew who she was and what she had done for Los Angeles when she redeemed herself with Parkman and the police forces across North America who previously doubted her. Hirst trusted her. When she explained what had happened on the boat, he would know that she acted in self-defense. The boat still had the cement mix. Roland and Frank’s fingerprints would be all over the boat and the cement bag. Their intent would be obvious. The truth, her story, would convince anyone who took the time to reconstruct the crime scene.
So why did she hesitate to call Hirst? She knew his number by heart. Why not call him to learn if Roland and Frank were real cops?
Maybe it was because she had wiped the boat down. That would show intent to cover up the incident, make her look guilty of something. It would cast suspicion on her, needlessly.
So why not call him?
Maybe she was worried that she’d gone too far this time. So far, in all that she had done with her life, killing murderers and rapists, never gave her pause, but killing cops, even dirty ones, was not something she wanted to be known for. But that point in time had come and gone. For some reason lately, dirty cops seemed to be on her radar.
The public understood the death of a child molester, even welcomed it. Or a serial killer. But the murder of a cop in the line of duty, even when Sarah knew he was rogue, was a harder sell.
She set the phone down and decided to wait until after she ate. She needed to think on it some more.
The food came and she dove in, eating too fast. When she was almost done, she snatched the phone up without another thought, dialed Hirst’s private cell and waited while it rang in her ear. Finally, after six rings, he picked up.
“How can I help you?”
“Hirst?” Sarah asked, her tone deep.
“And this is?”
“This is me hanging up.” She pulled the phone away from her ear but hesitated over the end button as Hirst shouted for her to come back. She waited a moment, then placed the phone at her ear.
“Sarah Roberts?” he asked.
“What?”
“Why hang up?”
“Because I called to talk, not play games. When I was here before you always answered the phone with your name first. What changed?”
“The number on call display. I didn’t recognize it.”
It dawned on her then. If Roland was a real cop, Hirst might’ve known the name on call display. There were a lot of police officers on the payroll of the LAPD, so there was a chance he wouldn’t know it as well.
But if they were actively looking for Roland …
“Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re here? In L.A.?”
“I’m calling to ask a favor.”
“Avoiding my question?”
“This isn’t a social call.”
“Parkman’s worried about you. So is Aaron.”
“Tell them I’m fine.”
“I just talked to Parkman about two hours ago.”
“Oh yeah? What about?”
“We’re looking for a couple of missing persons. I heard you two were near Susanville so I thought I’d call, see if you’d heard anything about our missing guys.”
They were probably looking for Frank and Roland, now deceased, and she was calling Hirst on Roland’s cell phone.
Incriminating much?
“Look, Hirst, I’m tied up at the moment, so I haven’t got a lot of time.”
“Go ahead, Sarah. Why did you call then?”
“I called to ask if you’d relay a message for me.”
“To whom and what’s the message?”
“Tell Parkman I’m fine and I’ll head to Santa Rosa when I’m done here. He can call Aaron.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Private business.”
“Then let me ask you a different question.”
Sarah didn’t want to hear any more questions. She hadn’t called to send messages to Parkman, but was forced to make it up on the spot. All she wanted to do was get off the phone now. The fine line between doing what was right and good often brought her too close to the criminal side. Her actions could be misconstrued, made to look devious, wrong. The last thing she ever wanted was to be jailed for a decade because of something Vivian had her do that didn’t work out. She knew that Frank and Roland had to be killed or they would’ve killed her, but killing cops was becoming a habit in a country where cops are known to beat you down for simply not hearing them properly. Videos surface on YouTube all the time. People are shot and killed by cops during a traffic stop, or for stealing a can of Red Bull. What would they do to her if they thought she was a cop killer who continuously got away with it? Even if it was just, there would always be a batch of officers who wouldn’t believe the defense. This kind of heat only made what she did that much harder. She waited for Hirst’s question with bated breath, twirling her fork over the remains of the baked potato.
“I was wondering something, Sarah, and I want a serious answer.”
“Go ahead.”
“What are you doing with Officer Roland Manks’ cell phone?”
The sound of wind came through the tiny speaker.
“Are you in a vehicle?” Sarah asked.
“I’m almost at Marina Del Ray,” Hirst said. “We’ve got two missing cops, Sarah, and suddenly a call comes into my cell from Roland’s phone. I had my guys triangulate the call as I wanted to know where the call originated. And wasn’t I surprised to hear your voice. So tell me, Sarah, where’s Roland and Frank? Or let me ask you a better question. Are they still alive?”
“I’ll tell you everything when I come in, not before.”
“Then come in, Sarah. Coming in now is the only way.”
“No. It. Isn’t.” She clenched her teeth and breathed out, stabbing the fork into the leftover baked potato. “I have something to finish and giving you a statement will take too long.”
“Sarah, wait for me. I’ll help. I’m a friend. Just wait and tell me everything. I know you. I know who you are—”
Sarah cut the call and set the phone down.
“Shit.”
She pulled out a few twenties, set them on the table, took a long pull on her wine, then walked briskly from the restaurant. Out front, she flagged a passing cab, got in and asked him to take her to Hollywood and Vine.
She knew about the nightclubs there. It was somewhere to disappear for a few hours. Do some thinking. Then she’d catch a cab to Burbank and find a hotel, which would lead her to Cole, according to Roland.
Somehow she’d find Cole and end this, with or without Vivian’s help.
Up ahead, through the windshield, four police cars led by one unmarked cruiser raced through a red light, headed toward the restaurant she had just left.
She dipped down in the backseat until they had passed.
The feeling that killing two L.A. cops would haunt her longer than Vivian’s memories had suddenly became tangible.
A memory could be forgotten eventually.
But cops never forget when you kill one of theirs.
Never.
Chapter 30
Parkman’s phone rang as he was finishing dinner at a restaurant close to his hotel. As soon as Hirst updated him, he dropped money on the table, and stepped outside.
“What?” he said. “That doesn’t make sense. Sarah is in Los Angeles and she called you on a missing cop’s cell phone? I have t
o tell you, Hirst, that sounds impossible. If I hadn’t heard it from you, I wouldn’t believe it. We’re looking for her up here, northeast of Sacramento. L.A.’s almost a ten-hour drive.”
“I know. I can’t believe it either. We think she came in on a boat. I’ve got guys checking the marina now. Otherwise, why eat at a restaurant at the marina.”
“For her to be alone now tells me that whoever took her is either heading to a hospital or dead.”
“Working on that already. Tell me more about what’s happening up there.”
Parkman filled him in, leaving nothing unsaid.
“That’s one tough girl,” Hirst said. “She’s been through a lot.”
“I suspect she’s still going through something.” Parkman started across the parking lot toward his car. “Look, I’ll head south but I won’t get there for a while.”
“Don’t. Get some sleep. Leave early tomorrow and get here for dinner. There’s nothing you can do by leaving now and getting here at four in the morning. We’ll find her. I’m sure everything will work out.”
Parkman stopped at his car and leaned on the trunk. Hirst was right. He needed sleep. He would leave early and get to L.A. around lunch, or shortly thereafter.
“Hirst?” Parkman said.
“Yeah?”
“Remember, it’s Sarah. Be cool with her. She’s not the enemy.”
“I know that.”
“Seriously. If something happened to those cops, they deserved it.”
“That won’t go over easy here.” A moment later, he said, “If I hadn’t met Sarah, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. She’d be a suspect in their disappearance as she was using Roland’s phone and refused to tell me how she came into possession of it. When she learned I was coming for her, she bolted. I’ve got men working the phones trying to see what cab company did a street pickup out here. If she’s in a cab, I should know very soon. When I find her, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt, but Parkman, I have to find her or she has to come in. It’s easier if she does it on her own. She doesn’t want a dozen LAPD members storming her hotel or wherever she’s staying. Things just don’t work out the way you want them to when that happens.”
“Just do me a favor. Trust that Sarah’s innocent. I know I’m right. Give her a chance to prove it.”
“I will and I’ll do my best to keep her safe once we find her. But if I don’t find her first or she doesn’t walk into a police station, I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Parkman hung up and decided he couldn’t wait around. He got behind the wheel and started driving, his bag still in the backseat as he hadn’t gone into the hotel room after he checked in.
There was nothing keeping him here and everything making him want to drive all night long to Los Angeles. He started south just as his cell rang again.
Aaron’s name came up in the screen. Parkman set the phone back down.
“You wanted out,” he said to the empty car. “This is where it starts. Talk to Sarah when this is all over.”
The phone quieted after eight rings.
Chapter 31
The cab driver sat in traffic coming along Hollywood Boulevard. Sarah watched people passing by on the sidewalk, seemingly carefree, walking with purpose from place to place. What was it like to be innocent, to go to school, dream of a future, get married, buy a house? There was so much happening around the tourists and the people of L.A. that they had no idea. They pinballed from the wax museum to the gift shop to the restaurant and then back to their hotel having no clue that killers were among them.
There were police officers assigned to protect the public who acted contrary to their sworn duty. Wasn’t that what this was all about? Cole Lincoln used to be a cop. He broke the law. Evidently enough times that he couldn’t stay on as a cop anymore. But being the muscle at a mental hospital in northern California offered him many unwilling victims without recourse.
So maybe in her attempt to stop Cole, her sister had led her to Roland and Frank. Maybe it was just what was needed. And there’d be no blowback on Sarah. She certainly hoped so.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she turned to the driver.
“Would you recommend a good hotel around here?”
He slowed at a red light. “Ahh, how about—”
The phone in her hand rang. It was probably Hirst again, but it came up as a private number.
She leaned forward and thrust the phone over the back of the seats.
“As soon as I hit the button to answer,”—it rang again— “I’ll put the phone to your ear. Just say, yeah or hello. Okay?”
The phone rang a fourth time.
The cab driver nodded. “Okay.”
As Sarah reached for the button, she added, “I just want to play a trick on an old friend.”
She hit the button and pressed it to the driver’s ear as he pulled away at the green light.
On cue, he said, “Yeah,” in a deep voice.
Sarah snatched the phone back to her ear and listened.
“Has our guest left this place? Are her shoes heavy, her clothes soaked through yet?”
Cole!
She lowered the mic until it rested on her throat and mumbled, “Mmm, hmm.”
The cab was pulling over. She raised a finger for him to be quiet and wait. He put on the four-ways.
“Good, then come to the Safari Inn. I have left your final payment in room 224. Pick up the key at the front desk. Your debt to me has been paid. Let Frank know I appreciate his help, too.”
“Mmm, hmm.”
The phone clicked off. “Shit.” She gazed out the windshield. “Turn around. I need to go to the Safari Inn for the night.”
“Safari Inn? The one in Burbank, on Olive Avenue?”
Burbank? Roland had said he wasn’t going to kill her, but Cole just asked if she was gone. Wasn’t Roland supposed to deliver her to a hotel in Burbank to relive a scene from a movie? It had to be the Safari Inn.
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
The cab driver did a left on Vine and headed away from Hollywood Boulevard and the crowd of tourists taking pictures of the stars on the sidewalk.
Roland had lied. They were supposed to kill her on that boat. Bury her at sea. Then the gang in blue just cruise on in to L.A. and pick up a payoff and go about their merry way. No one would ever locate Sarah’s body and she would stay missing forever. How many people had this happened to in the past? To have it all worked out, to have it set up so perfectly, meant they must have done it before.
She felt righteous in what she had done to Roland and Frank now. They deserved it. Both of them had followed her to the cemetery. They had attacked her in Dr. Williams’ office and again at the cabin. These guys delivered her to Cole before, but this time Cole just wanted her to disappear. His fun with her was over. He was ready to move on.
But she wasn’t ready to let bygones be bygones.
As the cab sped toward the Safari Inn and room 224, Sarah focused on Vivian, asking if there was anything she needed to know about the Safari Inn. Was Cole waiting there? Or just a payoff for Roland and Frank? Was she walking into a trap? If Cole wasn’t there, where was he?
But all Sarah got in return was silence.
Vivian had been silent in the past and for good reason. Sarah trusted this was one of those times.
She leaned up and rested her forearms on the back of the front seat.
“If someone was threatening you in your cab, what weapons would you use on them?”
“What?” the driver asked, turning to look at her and then back to the road.
She read his name on the cab driver identification card.
“Mike, I’m not the threat. I just need a weapon. What kind of weapon do you carry and how much money do you want for it?”
“I have no weapons.”
“Sure you do. Come on, I’m a girl. I need one for overnight as I’ll be alone in my room.”
The driver didn
’t say anything more as he took an exit for Barham Boulevard. At a red light, he paused, then took a right hand turn. Sarah sat back in her seat. She wasn’t going to push the issue, get him upset and kick her out of his cab. Stealing the cab would only add to the heat about to come down on her head.