Dragon Walk

by Melissa Bowersock

  He headed out ahead of her.

  It was perfectly normal for him to take the lead like this. He needed the solitude; he needed to be able to zone in on the feelings. But she had to wonder if he might have walked beside her if…

  They walked for several minutes in silence. She watched his long black ponytail roll lightly on his back with each step. She could tell he was staying aware, staying open for whatever impressions he might pick up on, but it seemed that nothing was coming to him. She wanted to say something, talk to him. More than once she opened her mouth, tried to find words, but then closed her mouth without a sound.

  What could she say? It was her idea to move out; how could she approach him now? I’m sorry? I was wrong? But what if she wasn’t? What if they tried again and ran into the same problems, the same differences? What if they could never get it to work?

  Depression settled over her, a black cloud in her mind. She couldn’t bear to lose him. She had to find a way across this chasm.

  Impulsively, without thinking of the ramifications, she increased her steps until she was beside him, and took his hand. She felt his arm tense, as if he might jerk away from her, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked down at her, black eyes to green, searching, studying, appraising.

  She met his gaze directly, without flinching. Let him see her, see into her, see her love and sadness, her hesitation and anguish. It was all there for him to see.

  He squeezed her hand briefly, just a hint of a smile curving the corners of his mouth. “Hey, Lacey,” he said in a low voice.

  She smiled, feeling tears behind her eyes. “Hey, Sam. How you doing?”

  “Okay,” he said, and this time she believed him. He returned his attention to the trail before them. “It’s nice out here.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “I’ve never been…”

  “Hold it.” He dropped her hand and stopped dead on the trail. Arms away from his body, fingers spread, he turned his head one way, then the other. He seemed to be listening, but Lacey knew it was not sound he was questing for.

  His nostrils flared. His lips parted, mouth slightly open.

  “She knew him,” he barely whispered. “Not afraid. She knew him.”

  Lacey glanced around at the cover on either side of the trail, the scrub oaks, the rocks. “Is this where…?”

  “This is where he took her.”

  “Took her?” Lacey repeated. “Took her where?”

  Sam began a slow turn, first west, toward the slope that rose above the trail toward the higher elevations, then back to the right, to the east, where the chaparral forest fell away in gentle folds, acre upon rolling acre.

  “Here,” he said. He held his arm out and swept it past the gray-green forest that reached to mountains beyond the canyon.

  “Here?” Lacey scoffed. “There are thousands of acres out there. Where?”

  Sam stood firm, his hands on his hips. “I don’t know. But it’s out there.”

  Lacey felt slightly poleaxed. She followed his gaze out across the wilderness and wondered how they would ever search all that. The uneven ground, the thick brush, the unbroken forest; trying to find evidence of human remains out there? Not to mention marauding animals: dogs, coyotes, bob cats, even mountain lions. It was impossible.

  She was about to say so when Sam turned back toward her. “She’s out there, Lacey. I know it.”

  She recognized that certainty. Sam had never been wrong. “All right,” she said. “She’s out there. But she’s…”

  “She’s dead, yes. But we still need to find her.”

  Lacey nodded. “Yes, we do. But…” Think, Lacey, think. She forced herself into cop mode. “Okay. Let me take some pictures. How far do you think we’ve come from the parking area?”

  She pulled out her phone and began to shoot the scene, starting at her twelve o’clock, straight ahead on the trail, then coming around in a full circle clockwise. She was interrupted by Sam taking her wrist to check her watch.

  “I figure we walked about twenty minutes, so I’d say we’re close to a mile away,” he said. “Let’s try to find something to mark the trail with.”

  Once Lacey had taken all the photos, they found a downed tree limb just above the trail and rolled it over so it lay along the edge of the path. Then Sam began collecting rocks and they laid them in a straight line alongside the trail as well. Both markers would seem so ordinary to hikers, so utterly forgettable, that there was a good chance no one would bother them. Lacey took pictures of the markers, too.

  “You’ve got the map?” she asked.

  Sam pulled it from his back pocket and unfolded it over a large rock. They both studied the diagram of Brush Canyon Trail.

  “I don’t remember any big turns as we walked,” Lacey said. “Do you?”

  “No. So I’d say we’re in this area, before this big turn.” He pointed to a distinct ninety-degree turn in the trail on the map. Lacey agreed.

  “This would be a good time to have GPS,” she muttered.

  Sam blinked at her. And laughed. “Yes, it would. This would be an excellent time. Maybe you should get an app for that when we get back to civilization.”

  Lacey grinned at him. “Note to self.”

  “Okay.” Sam folded up the map and took a swig of water. “Now what, Officer Fitzpatrick?”

  “Now,” she said, also taking a sip from her bottle,” we go back and report.” She glanced at her watch. “How about we grab some lunch first?”

  “Good idea.” He nodded. “I’m starving.”

  “Pop Tarts for breakfast?” she asked, falling in beside him as they started back.

  “All out of Pop Tarts,” he said. “Kids ate ‘em. Had to settle for cold popcorn from last night.”

  “Yum,” she said. She put out her hand. He took it without hesitation. They walked back to the car in contented silence.

  ~~~

  SIX

  Settled into a booth in a diner, their lunches ordered, Lacey got her notebook out of her pack. She flipped to a blank page and held up her pen.

  “Okay, so she’s feeling good, not afraid, looking forward to the run,” she recited as she wrote it down. “You said running helps her clear her head of the hassles that are going on.”

  “Right,” Sam said. “Hassles at work and hassles with the boyfriend.”

  Lacey jotted that down. “Captain Shaw said the boyfriend appeared pretty clean.” She tapped her chin with the blunt tip of the pen. “Maybe he’s not.”

  “Maybe,” Sam agreed. He sipped his iced tea. “Maybe you need to go talk with the man.” He arched an eyebrow at her.

  She gave him a wicked smile. “Interview him?” she asked.

  “That’s what you do.”

  She nodded. “Yes, it is.” She made a note. “And hassles at work,” she repeated. “I was already thinking I’d go to the jewelry store this afternoon. See what I can find out from the co-owner.”

  “Sole owner, now,” he said.

  Lacey pondered that. “You said she knew him—a man.”

  Sam shrugged. “Man for hire?”

  Lacey made a note. “That’s possible. What else?”

  Their waitress brought their meals. Lacey doused ketchup on her fries, but not before Sam snagged a couple of clean ones.

  “You could have ordered a side of fries to go with your chicken Caesar,” she grumbled.

  Sam smiled at her and pushed a whole fry into his mouth.

  “We’ll need to find out what searches the LAPD did four months ago,” she said. “They will have kept track of what they covered. With any luck, they may have searched some of that area so maybe we won’t still have thousands of acres to look at.”

  “Yeah, maybe just hundreds,” Sam said grimly.

  Even the optimistic view was daunting.

  “And,” Lacey said, “I’ll have to call the McClures before I call the captain. We are working for them, after all. And I’ll need to give them the bad news.”

  Sam’s eyes soften
ed. “You want me to do it?”

  “No. It’s okay. I’ve done it before; I’m sure I’ll do it again.” She reached across the table and brushed his hand with her fingers. “But thanks.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  They ate in silence for several minutes, both minds working. Lacey munched her hamburger and watched Sam demolish his salad—and her French fries.

  “How’re the kids?” she asked finally.

  “They’re good,” he said. “I’ll pick them up tomorrow for the weekend.”

  She phrased her next question carefully. “Do they know about… me? Us?”

  He chewed thoughtfully. Lacey was glad his expression didn’t change. “No. I’ll tell them when I pick them up.”

  She nodded, pushing a French fry around her plate. “What will you say?”

  “Mm, not sure yet,” he said. “What do you want me to say?” The words were spoken casually, but the look he turned on Lacey was dead serious.

  Her face grew warm. “Um, I don’t know. That, uh, I needed some time alone? That we had some… differences to sort out?”

  He continued eating, but his eyes never left her face. Finally he shrugged. “I’ll think of something.”

  She let out the breath she was holding. “Okay.” This was just one of those things. The kids might not like it—especially nine-year-old Kenzie—but it was a fact of life. Things didn’t always turn out perfect.

  “But if the kids want to play miniature golf this weekend, I’d be available,” she said.

  Sam barked a laugh. “You just want to pay me back for waxing your butt last time.”

  “Well, it’s a little difficult to play well with one arm in a sling.”

  “Likely story,” Sam said. He pointed a French fry at her. “We’ll let you know.”

  She just smiled.

  ~~~

  “I’ll drop you home, then make some phone calls,” she said as they walked back to the car.

  “You know what?” Sam said. “Why don’t you call the McClures and see if we can stop by? I think that would be better than telling them over the phone.”

  Lacey buckled up and put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it on. “You sure? I don’t mind telling them.”

  “Nah. We’ll both go. That’s better.”

  “Okay.”

  She dialed the number. Esther answered. “Esther, it’s Lacey. Sam and I were wondering if we could stop by. Let you know what we found.”

  “Uh, all right. Yes, we’re here. Come on over.”

  “Okay. We’ll be right there.”

  “How’d she sound?” Sam asked as Lacey stowed her phone and started the car.

  She glanced over at him. “Prepared.”

  It wasn’t as bad as it might have been. After all, four months had passed. Lacey knew their hopes had most likely died and been resurrected and died again numerous times over those months. Now, however, they would never be resurrected again.

  “Thank you,” Esther said tearfully. “But do you think you know where she is? Where…?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “We’ll find her.”

  “We’re going to co-ordinate with the LAPD,” Lacey said. “I’ll get with Captain Shaw, find out where they’ve searched already and we’ll start again in the area Sam found. It’s a big area, but Sam’s pretty good at this.”

  Esther and Randall exchanged looks, and Esther had to fight back tears. Randall put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” he said. “We’re glad… you’re getting results.”

  “We are, too,” Lacey said.

  When she pulled up in front of Sam’s apartment, she parked the car but didn’t turn it off. Sam unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the door handle.

  “Been a good day,” he remarked, glancing over at her.

  “Yeah. Good work, good results.” She watched his dark eyes, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t studying hers. “It’s nice to work together again,” she said softly.

  He nodded once. “Yes, it is.” For a moment she thought he might say more, but he only took her hand and squeezed it. “Let me know what you find out.” He popped the door.

  “I will.”

  He slid out and closed the door. Lacey watched him walk to his apartment. Only when he reached the door did he turn and acknowledge her with a quick smile.

  She waved and put the car in reverse.

  ~~~

  SEVEN

  The jewelry store in Los Feliz was not easy to find. Lacey had the address, but not all businesses on the block had numbers where she could easily see them, and she drove on past and had to turn around for another try. Then she saw it. A single door on a long, narrow shop, the sign hanging from a hook that was easily readable from the sidewalk but not so much from the street.

  The Dragon’s Den.

  Lacey parked and went in.

  A tinkly bell announced her entrance. “Be right there,” a voice drifted from behind a curtained doorway in the back.

  Lacey looked around. As a concession to the narrowness of the store, display cases were arranged along one wall, leaving an open walkway down the opposite side. Each six-foot case was a standalone, made of beautiful wood and glass, the shelves within displaying intricate jewelry with flowing lines and gemstones. The walls were hung with delicate porcelain masks painted with lavish designs—butterfly wings, peacock patterns, dragon’s scales. While some masks were faces only, some were complete with ears and throats, and showed off exquisite earrings and necklaces.

  “Hi. Sorry to keep you waiting. Welcome to the Dragon’s Den.” A tall, willowy woman strode from the back, her strawberry blonde hair long and curly.

  “Hello,” Lacey said. She held out her card. “I’m Lacey Fitzpatrick, private investigator. I’ve been hired by Esther and Randall McClure to look into their daughter’s disappearance. Could we talk for just a few minutes?”

  The woman frowned as she read the card. Lacey couldn’t tell if it was because she wasn’t a potential customer or because she was an investigator.

  “Vanessa Medina,” the woman said finally. She put out her hand and Lacey shook it. “Come on back here. We can sit.”

  She led the way to the back end of the store, not through the curtain but behind a display case across the back. She offered Lacey a folding chair and took one for herself.

  “So I guess the McClures got tired of waiting around for the police?” she asked.

  Lacey didn’t care for the tone of that, although she could understand it. “From what I understand, the LAPD has had very little in the way of leads,” she said carefully. “My partner and I go at things from a different perspective.”

  Vanessa tilted her head. “How so?”

  “My partner’s a medium. We investigate from a spiritual standpoint.”

  Vanessa’s eyes widened. “They hired a psychic?”

  “You could say that,” Lacey allowed. “We’ve had pretty good luck tracking down murderers the police couldn’t find.”

  Vanessa sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”

  Lacey bridled at the veiled contempt, but kept her temper in check. “Really,” she said. “And we’ve already found information the police didn’t have in this case.”

  “What information?” Vanessa’s voice challenged.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” Lacey said matter-of-factly. “We’ve given the McClures what we’ve found. You’re welcome to ask them.”

  Vanessa sat perfectly still, staring at Lacey. Lacey kept her gaze direct and unemotional.

  “Well, maybe I will,” the woman said finally. “So what do you need from me?”

  Lacey started to pull out her digital recorder, but thought better of it. She decided her notebook would be less antagonistic. She flipped to a blank page.

  “Who do you think did it?” she asked.

  Vanessa was clearly not expecting that. She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I have no idea who did it.”

  �
�That’s not what I asked,” Lacey said. “I asked who you think did it.”

  Vanessa seemed at a loss for words. She stood up, grabbed a water bottle from a shelf, and took a sip. “You want one?” she asked.

  “No, I’m good,” Lacey said.

  Vanessa stood for a moment, trying to decide whether to sit or not. Finally she took her seat again.

  “I think,” she said slowly, “Greg did it.”

  Lacey nodded. “How come?”

  “Well, it’s always the boyfriend, isn’t it? Always the spouse, or the ex-spouse.”

  Lacey shrugged. “What about Brad?”

  “Oh, Brad.” Vanessa dismissed him. “He’s not the sharpest crayon in the box. Too stupid to do this.”

  Lacey tilted her head. “Too stupid? To kill?”

  Vanessa sipped her water. “Too stupid to cover it up so well. If he’d done it, the case would have been solved in a day.”

  Lacey smothered a smile. “Okay. But Greg is smart?”

  “Oh, yeah. Too smart. Sneaky smart.”

  Lacey made a note. “Why do you think so?”

  Vanessa looked out over the store, gathering her thoughts. “He’s a control freak, but he knows what behavior is over the line, so he keeps it… reasonable. It’s not obvious, you know?”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  “Sure. You do know that Brad was arrested for assault twice, but Maddie let him off the hook?” Lacey nodded. “When Greg came into the picture, he picked up on that right away. Kept telling Maddie he was worried about her, concerned for her safety. He insisted she carry her cell on her person at all times—not leaving it in her purse—and if he calls her, she’d better answer it pronto.”

  “Or?”

  “Or he’d think she was dead in a ditch somewhere and go crazy. He always framed it in the most altruistic way—he cared about her, wanted to make sure she was safe and all—but it gave me the creeps. Then he started stopping by the store unannounced. If he walked in and Maddie wasn’t right there at the front display case, he was going to find out why. If she was in the back, working on a piece—we have a little shop back there—he’d charge through the store and right into the back, customers or no customers.”