by J. D. Allen
“She’s all yours when you want it, dude.”
Jim put the gun down. “Only kind of bag I have carries groceries. Your girl probably won’t like that.”
Ely laughed and bobbed his head towards the gun. “The piece, I meant, not my piece.” Ely dug in a box filled with shipping peanuts. He pulled out a smaller black plastic case. “New tracking device. Comes with a phone app. If you can get it in a purse or briefcase, you can track right to the object.”
Problem with that was purses and briefcases got left behind. But it was better than the big magnet trackers Jim stuck on car undercarriages.
Ely took a couple small boxes off a shelf. “Earwigs. Set of four. I got a few more flash-bangs if you want them, but not sure the airline will let you carry them on. More than three ounces.”
“No shit.” O took the electronics. “I’ll hook up with a bounty hunter I shared some info with in Mesquite. He’ll take care of anything we need beyond my sidearm.”
“Don’t think we’ll need too many toys, O. It’s like we’re hunting a ghost. We don’t find her, there’s nothing to shoot at. It’s unlikely she’s back in Texas.”
“She could be anywhere.”
“Girl’s gotta have a home base.” Ely led them out of the closet, making sure the thing was locked up tight before he stopped and put his hands on his hips, staring up at the eagle hanging over the upstairs railing like a gargoyle on steroids. “She has a plan, she wants that Hodge boy. She’s got somewhere ready to accommodate the dude. Whether it’s for loving or killing, that’s your worry—the nest.”
29
“Hope you got the insurance.” O got out of the car and stretched his legs. The trip from the airport had taken near forty-five minutes.
Jim pushed the button on the fob but also double-checked the handle to ensure that it wasn’t opening. Not that any door locks made were going to help. This was the kind of neighborhood where if a person found themselves there accidentally, by wrong turn or bad GPS, they snapped the locks shut as they drove. They prayed to whatever god they pleased that they hit all the lights green until they could get back on the freeway. When they had to stop, they kept their eyes forward, wondering if the kids on the corner were going to hijack the car. Even the streetlights sagged in depression as they hung over dirty, narrow streets.
“I did. Good thing you wanted to leave most of the equipment in the hotel room.”
Jim turned back down the street they’d driven up. They’d passed the address.
It looked vacant. Graffiti-painted plywood covered the only window on the first floor. As they approached the smoky glass door, a small boy ducked through the opening. He glanced at the pair with a surprised look but kept to his intended path without much change in pace. He must have figured them for cops. Or thugs. Either way, he wanted no part of them.
The door was perpetually a foot and half open. Jammed. Jim found it incredibly hard to pull it the rest of the way. It creaked as if the metal would snap.
Inside the dusty stone foyer was a bank of mailboxes and an intercom system. Some names were still taped beside dingy red buttons. But the case holding the intercom system had long since been pried from the wall and twisted wiring hung exposed and dead. “We need 4B.”
Neither even tried for the elevator.
Only four flights. Shouldn’t be too bad, Jim figured. Wrong. The urine stench was only slightly overpowered by the smell of molded ceiling tiles. Random clothing, paper, and a few broken needles littered each of the landings. They moved at a steady pace. O had not unholstered his gun, but his hand rode on the grip as he eased up the steps, keeping to the outside wall. His attention stayed a flight higher than his feet.
Jim ducked close behind. Military formation for two guys who’d never worn a uniform. Different kind of training for their type.
The door to the fourth floor was closed. Jim wasn’t exactly afraid as O pushed it open, but he’d sure rather be sneaking through a cheap Vegas hotel over this rundown housing project any day.
“Feels dead in here,” O whispered. He seemed just as spooked. Not scared. Hyper alert.
The matted hallway carpet felt lumpy under Jim’s feet. Maybe it had been green at one point, but it was now so dust-coated it looked gray in most areas. The first door they passed had a tin letter H hanging crooked under the peephole.
“B’s at the other end of the hall,” O said over his shoulder.
“Of course.”
The next door stood open. Jim glanced in. Empty. Single abandoned chair sat under the far window.
Jim could hear a TV. Game show. Family Feud maybe. It was coming from another open door, third to the right. The next door they passed was broken and hanging crooked on the bottom hinge. O scanned the inside before passing.
He pictured a tiptoeing cartoon character stopping and bobbing his head around every corner just waiting for the bandit to jump out. “This place must have been condemned years ago.”
O was still whispering. “If there’s a TV, there’s power here.”
They made it to 4B. The door was closed. Jim tried the handle. “My bet … No one’s been here in years.”
Before O could reply, the door swung open. An elderly black woman in a bright yellow floor-length evening gown stood before them as if she were expecting them. Her face was made up like a teenager ready for a prom date, her long gray hair twisted in a sloppy braid on the top of her head.
“Well. Early. I like it.” She motioned for them to enter.
“I’m Jim Bean. A private investigator from Las Vegas—”
“Vegas!” She spun in place. The dress flared at the bottom, making her look like a flower. Her big feet were covered by tattered gold sneakers. “I danced on the main stage at the Flamingo in ’62. Eight straight weeks.”
“We’re looking to see if anyone here remembers a Kiko Henry,” O said as she sashayed up to him.
“You are a big one, aren’t you? In my day, young man, I would be inclined to explore all that creamy white skin of yours.” She motioned up and down his torso and tilted her head.
“Kiko?”
“Hmm … ” She turned and glanced at two pictures on the wall. Both family portraits. Could be hers, could have been there before she decided to squat in this apartment.
“That the boy that got himself sliced up about ten years back?”
“I think it was seven.”
“Bah,” she scoffed. “If memory serves, he was one of the hustlers. Selling smack to the kids ’round here and the boy had the girls coming and going. Got cut up one night. Died in his skivvies.” She looked out the dirty window. The TV was plugged into a big extension cord that was affixed to the wall and ran out the window.
Jim glanced out. Smiled.
The cord stretched to the building next door and connected to another extension that ran to the roof. Four or five other cords zigzagged back and forth across the alley. That was the power. He almost asked her how she managed to get water but decided he didn’t want to know. She was living on three outlets on an extension cord.
Instead he asked, “You ever know any of his girls?”
“Me?” She clutched the rhinestones at her chest. “No, sir. I been keeping my mouth shut and my eyes on my own business for a long time. Keeps me alive, it does.” Her nose scrunched up. “Why the cops digging into Kiko’s mess anyway? Dead black man in this neighborhood is no big deal today, much less a dead pimp from seven years ago.”
“We’re not cops.” O almost stiffened at the accusation.
“You said you was an investigator.”
“Private investigators,” Jim said. “ We’re looking for one of his old girls. Her family is wanting her back.” Lie.
“Well. You have a rough row to hoe, brother.” She patted O on the tummy, leaving her bony hand there. “Ooh. You want to hang around and see what an old lady can still do?”
“Not sure. That’s why I asked. But I’ll give it my best.” She cackled. Her eyes sparked with life. She seemed content with her place in this run-down, empty building.
Jim backed toward the door. “You okay in this apartment, ma’am?”
“Been okay in this building for twenty-six years. I moved over here to this side of the hall after the power died.”
“So you were across the hall when Kiko lived in this apartment?”
“Yeah. They cleaned the blood up good and then another couple tenants come and gone before I slipped in.”
Jim fished the picture of Dan and Sophie out and held it for her to see. “This girl.” He tapped the picture. “You remember her?”
She strained to look at it. “If I seen her, I don’t recall.”
It’d been worth a try.
“Most of his girls were white and young. Boy was bad news. Lord forgive me for saying it out loud, but I shed no tears when he got cut.”
“Not sure anyone did, ma’am.” O bowed a bit. “We’ll be on our way then. Lovely to have met you, my flower.”
She curtsied, holding out the ratty old gown as if in royal court.
They closed the door behind them and left her humming to herself.
“Her smile was ruined by those rotted teeth, but it still put off the warmth of the sun.”
Jim stopped to look at O, confused. That poor woman was living off the grid and barely making it day to day. She was clearly broke. Somehow, O had been lightened by her.
A slamming door echoed in the corridor. Jim jumped. Good thing O hadn’t noticed.
“Quit your grinning, lover boy, and put your hand back on your sidearm. Besides an aging showgirl, we have no idea what other surprises lurk in places like this.”
30
Carla trotted off the porch as fast as her little legs would carry her.
“Don’t go off too far. That drive wore me out. I don’t want to be chasing you.”
Sophie went in and rummaged through her quaint kitchen cabinets with the carved wood trim and found an odd glass bowl that didn’t match the rest of the set. All the furniture and the kitchen trappings had come with the purchase of the cabin. The woman who’d designed the look had done a nice job. Some kitschy mountain cabin decor graced the place, but not so much it was cliché.
She ran the water for a moment before filling the bowl. She’d been gone for a while and didn’t want crud from the old pipes in the bowl. Carla barked at something and Sophie headed out to see what the pup had found. She sat down on the top of the few steps leading down from the porch and looked out to the lake.
It was a perfect house. The secluded little log cabin had been a jewel to find. Foreclosure, so she got it cheap. Maybe that isolation had added to the reason it was on the market so long. Too far off the beaten path for most, but it was tailor-made for her. Quiet.
“Carla.”
The dog looked up from whatever she was sniffing at the edge of the lake.
“Come here.”
As if she’d been responding to Sophie all her little life, the creature turned and pranced right to her.
“Good girl.”
Happily, Carla took the attention for a moment, but her desire to explore took over soon enough. Sophie understood. Her first time here, she’d walked every inch of the area, memorizing the downed trees, the masses of dense bushes tucked here and there, and exactly how far it was before she could see another cabin. More than far enough for what she needed.
She kicked her shoes off and walked barefoot to the bench through the tall grass below. Her cell rang. Her work cell. She’d only turned it back on once she’d entered California.
“Successful trip, I trust?” Dave wanted numbers right off the bat. She had to physically shake her head to remember what little sales work she had done on this trip. She’d been gone five weeks. Dave gave her the perfect amount of freedom, but he would want something to show for her time. She worked on commission, so he didn’t care how long it took to woo the hospital administrators to buy their system. But, it’d been a week since she’d even checked in.
“How’s three out of five sound?” Along with two dead bodies. Brings me to a grand total of fourteen, but Dave wasn’t interested in those stats. The schitzoid swing from sales professional to dirty cabbie was harsh, but the sales calls had paid off. So had the cabbie job, for that matter.
“You are the man. Umm … woman. Which three?” Dave’s excitement was really cute.
“Desert Springs, Sunrise, and Valley.”
He’d hired her to sell software systems to hospitals without much of a background check. Changing your identity was hell on the resume. But the car salesmen turned software marketing VP had said his gut told him she was a beast.
She’d laughed at how right he really was. After several horrid interviews, she’d taken his confidence as a motivator. What’s it hurt him? Job was pure commission. If she failed it would only cost him a little training time. He’d made his money back in spades. In less than a year she was getting all the big leads and was assigned the best territories.
There was one more thing Dave wanted to hear. “Duke left a message today too.”
“And? You’re killing me, Maria.”
“It’s a go. Two point five, Dave. The entire network—hospital, outpatient, heart center, and medical facilities. Tech guys will be busy until next Halloween. I’ll send you the specs and orders soon.”
Carla came back up and jumped on her. Sophie didn’t feel like being Maria at the moment, but that was the price she paid. A few minutes on this call and a full day’s work tomorrow and she’d be set for a while.
“Damn. I’ll need another project manager for that one. Nice work. You beat everyone’s numbers again. One more and you’ll have the record. Your bonus should be enough to buy a house.”
“Already did.” She laughed. “Gotta walk the dog. I’ll email you tomorrow.” She paced into the house and down the little hall.
“When did you get a dog?”
Carla had followed.
“Found her in Vegas and decided to keep her.”
“Cute. Bring her when you come in. And when might that be?”
She stopped in front of a closed door and placed her palm on the wood. “Think I’m off to Dallas in a day or two. Want to follow up with Baylor. That COO is not happy with the system they have at all, but he’s hesitating because it’s only a year old and he dumped a wad into it. I think I can talk him over the hurdles if I keep at him.”
“Great. You need anything from me?”
She patted the wood. “Not a thing. I’m all good.”
“You sound … cheerful.”
Sophie chuckled. “I guess I had better stop that, hadn’t I?”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I mean it’s good to hear you sound so cheerful.”
“Bye, Dave.”
He huffed. “Later.”
She disconnected the call and pushed open the door. Carla stood in the doorway.
“This is Danny’s room.”
There was a bed with hand and leg shackles like the hospitals use, several blankets folded neatly at the foot. A small beside table sat alongside it. The lighting was wall mounted so it couldn’t be used as a weapon. She’d put two chairs in the room. One was a small plastic one for her to sit next to him and help him though his illness and she’d bought a more comfortable rocker so she could watch him as he slept.
Carla rushed to the bed and jumped on it.
“We must be patient, it may take him a while to come to love us again. Well, me. To love me again. But we will be a happy family.”
You’re gonna fuck this up.
The condescending tone grated Sophie’s ears.
&nb
sp; She was not. And this time she would ignore that voice and not play into her hate. Maybe she actually was cheerful. She was only a few days away from being with Danny, it didn’t matter.
You better not wait too long. What if they move him?
Taunting.
What if that crappy van you picked out breaks down?
Criticizing.
What if you run out of drugs?
Undermining.
Sophie slammed open the closet door as the volume in her head reached a screeching crescendo. She ran her finger over boxes and tubes, checked the supplies off the mental list she’d memorized over a year ago. It was all in order. Drugs, bandages, plastic sheeting, bottled water, and men’s necessities, all purchased months before. She had thought of everything. It would be fine, if she didn’t fuck it up. How long should she wait for the cops on protection duty to get complacent? “Two days? Three?”
Carla yapped.
“Three days.”
31
“It’s past my dinner time.” O rubbed the back of his neck with a white bandana and then shoved it back in his pocket.
Even after dark it was over 80 out and the humidity levels had to be topping out over 90 percent. They’d been walking around the known hangouts of the local working girls for a couple hours. It was close to ten and Jim’s stomach was churning too. But that came with the territory. You kept at it until your leads were all gone. And there were still girls out there.
“You really think one of these girls is going to have been on the street that long? Long life for a pro.” O looked over another girl they were approaching.
Most looked closer to twelve than thirty. “You’re probably right, but we don’t have much more to go on.”
“There was a Mexican joint a couple blocks back. I say we get some enchiladas and a margarita. I think better on a full stomach.” O turned without waiting for Jim’s reply. Guess that was an order and not a request.
“Don’t we all?” Jim followed.
He’d asked at least fifteen girls about Sophie. Shoved her picture under their noses telling them her mother wanted her home. Most could have cared less whose face was printed on that paper. They had their own sob story and no one was looking for them. No progress. Didn’t even get a hunch one of them was lying to him. It had been too long since Sophie walked this dirty mile of concrete.